Title- Red and Gold Suit Me Better
Summary- Right from the very beginning, Draco Malfoy does not conform to certain pure-blood rules and expectations. Things progress from there.
Rating- Teen because Author's paranoid and she swears.
Pairings- Gen. May change.
Warnings- AU, OOC, things are different
Length and Style- Chapters will not be posted in chronological order. Will take place throughout all Hogwarts years and possibly before and after, depending on how inspired Author feels. Have very, very low expectations, Readers, and you will not be disappointed. Author's muse is in charge of this entire mess, and it never goes well when Author's muse is holding the reins. Things tend to blow up. Violently.
Disclaimer- Author owns neither the characters nor the setting in which this little fic takes place. They belong to the lovely J.K. Rowling. In case you didn't know.
This fic is vaguely inspired by Chaos Theory by Tessa Crowley. Go check it out. It's undoubtedly better than this will ever be.
Some lines are taken nearly directly out of The Sorcerer's Stone, but most of the writing was tweaked by Author because she doesn't like copying things word for word. On a side note, this is only a prologue of sorts; it sets the scene. There are no major differences in the story line as of now, so Reader should not expect much.
"Potter, Harry!"
Whispers followed Harry's every step, ranging from the sensible ("Shut it, you idiots! He's a first year just like any other, and is probably sick and tired of your gossip!") to the less so ("Do you reckon that he'll skip a few years? Surely the first year curriculum is far too easy for one who defeated You-Know-Who before he quit diapers!") to the utterly idiotic ("I've heard that Dumbledore's planning to train him to hunt down seven parts of You-Know-Who's soul that have been scattered all over Britain!").
Harry sat down on the stool, and Professor McGonagall offered him a sympathetic smile before placing the Sorting Hat on his head. Harry waited a few moments for the Hat to make a decision, anxiety plaguing his thoughts. What if the Hat didn't do or say anything? What if it deemed Harry neither brave enough, nor ambitious enough, nor loyal enough, nor smart enough to belong in any of the four houses? What if this all was just a great big mistake, and Harry really was just a Muggle, and all the freak accidents that had happened over the course of his lifespan were really just those, freak accidents? How could he survive the rest of his stay at the Dursley's without something awful happening? They would be sure to lock him up in his cupboard again, and he'd never talk to nice people like Ron and Hagrid ever again—
"Calm yourself, child," said a small voice in his ear, "You are, without doubt, a wizard, and you do have magic; a lot of it, in fact. Don't worry. Just let me do my job and Sort you into the House that suits you best."
Harry let loose an inner sigh of relief and stopped his fidgeting.
"You are average at academics, and only apply yourself to the subjects that interest you, so Ravenclaw won't work. Though your loyalty and work ethic is nothing to be coughed at, I don't believe that Hufflepuff is the right choice, so that leaves only Gryffindor and Slytherin…"
Not Slytherin, Harry thought, gripping the edges of his seat. Please don't put me in Slytherin. He recalled Hagrid's warnings about how Slytherin was a dark, evil house that had produced Voldemort and various other Dark wizards. There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. He would certainly not like to belong to the House that had turned out his parents' murderer, thank you!
"Really? Not Slytherin? But you show such potential. It's all right in here, in the back of your mind; you could be great, you know."
"Well, I don't care much for being great. Put me in Gryffindor! You said yourself that I would do fine in there!"
"I didn't quite use that specific wording, but if you're absolutely certain of your choice, then I have no choice but to put you in GRYFFINDOR!"
This final word echoed around the Great Hall, and there was an immediate roar of approval from the red-clad table. Harry, trembling slightly with a thin sheen of sweat adorning his palms, stood, handed the Hat back to McGonagall, and made his way to the rowdy table. Ron's older brother, Percy, rose and shook his hand vigorously, while the twins (Fred and George, if Harry remembered correctly) shouted "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
Harry was quite disoriented by all this and moved to find a quieter part of the table, which was nigh impossible in these circumstances. He finally got to a (somewhat) peaceful section, and sat down, releasing a breath full of pent-up tension that he hadn't noticed he was holding.
The boy beside him, icy and withdrawn, gave him a wary look before scooching over a bit. While it wasn't the friendliest of reactions, it was far easier to deal with than all the adoration that Harry had been subject to during the past few hours, so he welcomed it. If the boy (another first year, it seemed; Harry roughly remembered a sudden hush at the boy's Sorting, but he couldn't quite recall his name) wanted to be left alone, then Harry would leave him alone.
The rest of the Sorting passed without a hitch, until it got to Ron's turn. He had been looking fairly green for a while now, and when the Hat passed over his eyes Harry crossed his fingers beneath the table and hoped with all his might. He didn't believe that he would last a year in this strange new environment with its high expectations without a close confidant with which to share his worries and fears, and though he had only known Ron for a little while, the other first year was the closest thing to a friend that Harry had ever had, and he wasn't willing to let go just yet.
Harry cheered louder than all the rest when the Hat cried out "GRYFFINDOR!" but was surprised and hurt when Ron sent him an angry, resentful look and turned in the other direction to sit with some other first year boys. Harry felt his gut twist in an unpleasant manner, and the bubble of excitement that had swelled in his chest burst with a sad little pop. What had he done now? Did Ron not like him after all, or had he somehow eavesdropped on the conversation between Harry and the Sorting Hat and knew how close Harry was to being put in Slytherin?
He was so wrapped up in his worries that he didn't notice when Headmaster Dumbledore delivered his (rather odd) welcoming speech and motioned for the feast to begin, and so when the delicious spread materialized suddenly in front of him, Harry nearly fell out of his chair in fright.
From the quiet snicker to his left, it appeared as though his twitchiness did not go as unnoticed as he had hoped. Harry's head whipped around to see the startlingly blank face of the quiet boy from earlier. Harry frowned in confusion. He could have sworn that he heard a muffled giggle, but the other boy was so poker-faced it was hard to believe that he hadn't imagined it.
After a few more seconds of silent scrutiny, the boy broke and laughed at Harry's puzzled expression, his previously pale cheeks turning red with merriment. Harry's lips twitched unwillingly upwards, for he too had to admit that he must have looked rather ridiculous.
"Any reason why you were so deep in thought?" asked the other boy, and Harry remembered his former predicament. His thoughts turned gloomy once more. What was going on with Ron? He searched for a way in which he had somehow offended his friend, but came up empty. The unpleasant feeling was back, and it smothered his previous laughter in a wave of worry.
Harry realized abruptly that the silence had been prolonged for far longer than was socially acceptable, and hurried to cover up his mistake. "Not anything in particular, no."
The boy gave him a doubtful, searching look, seeing past his obvious lie easily.
Harry winced and amended his earlier statement. "I'm just…" he searched for a word, "nervous. Nervous and frightened and a little bit confused. There may be some excitement in there too, but it seems to have been dampened for the time being."
The other boy nodded in agreement. "Same here. I'm so overwhelmed that I'm not quite sure what to think."
"Well, it's nice to know that someone else is feeling just as lost as I am," Harry responded, feeling slightly better.
The boy (whom Harry had by now decided to dub "Blondie") smiled and loaded up his plate with roast potatoes before passing the serving dish to Harry, who gratefully accepted. The chocolate frogs back on the Hogwarts Express seemed ages ago, and he was eager to go to bed on a full stomach.
It was only then that Harry noticed just how many people were watching him. People of all genders, houses, and ages were staring him down and whispering back and forth among themselves. And it wasn't just him, he noticed, but it was also the boy sitting next to him, blissfully eating his potatoes, seemingly unaware of the strange looks he was receiving.
But no, Harry found after a few more moments of examination, Blondie was not as oblivious as he appeared to be. His shoulders were tense and his movements too jerky to be natural, and everything he did was conducted with a forced sort of gracefulness. This boy was just as aware of the glaring spotlight shining down on him as Harry was himself, but he was much better at hiding it.
It seemed to be working for him, Harry thought, so I might as well try it myself.
They spent the rest of dinner talking about odd little topics, neither daring to stray into what could be considered dangerous territory. Harry briefly contemplated asking why, exactly, everyone is staring at Blondie, but dismissed it immediately. If Blondie didn't offer the information himself, chances were that he didn't want to talk about it, and Harry was fine with that.
The conversation was relaxing nonetheless, and Harry decided that he could wait before he tried to detangle his relationship with Ron, and that perhaps it didn't really matter as much as he had thought. If Blondie, who had seemed so icy and unsociable at first, could at least hold up a decent conversation, then maybe Harry had a fighting chance, even without Ron to back him up.
Harry also learned other miscellaneous information, like how Blondie's favorite color was blue and how his favorite food was chocolate and caramel ice cream. Blondie, in turn, learned that Harry was new to the magical world and fascinated by just about everything, and they exchanged stories about their owls. Blondie's was named Vogler, after the star of his favorite Quidditch team, the Heidelberg Harriers. This led to an entirely different conversation about Quidditch, for it seemed that Harry had found another Quidditch fanatic, though Blondie explained the sport better than Ron.
They had both finished their dinners when the remainder of the food disappeared, leaving in its place a vast array of desserts, from vanilla ice cream to strawberry tarts to red velvet cake, all of which, Harry was sure, had increasingly ridiculous names. Blondie made a beeline for the chocolate caramel ice cream, and Harry suppressed a laugh when he swiped it from right under a fifth year's nose, leaving the older boy open-mouthed in surprise.
Harry and Blondie were feeling somewhat full and sleepy by this point in time, and it was apparent in the way the conversation slowed down and yawns seemed to permeate the surrounding discussion that the rest of the student body felt the same.
Dumbledore chose this exact moment to stand up and make his way to the podium. The students hushed almost immediately, waiting expectantly as the Headmaster gathered his thoughts.
"I have a few start-of-term notices to inform you of, if you will be so patient as to listen. Ahem. The Forbidden Forest is known as the Forbidden Forest for a reason, and should be avoided unless accompanied by a faculty member. I expect this is news to the first years," and at this his eyes flashed towards the innocent-looking Weasley twins, "but it should most definitely not be to the older students. On a related note, the list of contraband items that the caretaker, Mr. Filch, has so kindly set up is so long that I fear I would lose your interest if I were to recite it. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you set aside the time to take a look at it and ponder," his gaze was back at the Weasley twins, "whether or not the consequences of your pranks are worth it.
"Quidditch trials will be held in a few weeks' time," Blondie lit up at this, "though only second years and above are allowed to try out." He deflated. "If you wish to play for your respective House teams, then please inform Madam Hooch before time runs out.
"And last, but certainly not least, a warning: For all those who wish to die a very painful death, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is welcome to your perusal. But for the rest of the more sensible school population, I must request that you do not venture into this dangerous area."
Harry turned to Blondie, who looked just as puzzled as Harry was. "D'you reckon he's serious?" Harry whispered, feeling slightly foolish.
"I'm not sure," Blondie whispered back, "but I won't be going anywhere near the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, that's for sure. At least, anytime soon."
"And now," Dumbledore continued in a jovial manner, completely ignoring the mutters that broke out at his previous statement, "it is time to sing the school song!"
Blondie nudged Harry. "The teachers look right happy about that, don't they?" he hissed in an amused tone of voice. Harry nodded, as he had noticed as well that the professors were looking just a tad bit tense.
The rest of the school bellowed out the anthem, all in different tones and volumes, and Harry had almost reached the point where he thought his eardrums would split from the noise before the song finally ended, with the Weasley twins trailing off in a low funeral march.
"Ah, music," Dumbledore wiped a tear from his eye, "A magic beyond all we do here! But now, boys and girls, it is time for bed. Follow your House prefects, and you'll be sure to reach your dorms safely. Go on!"
Just as Harry was rising, he remembered something quite critical that he had been forgetting. Embarrassed, he reached out a hand towards Blondie and said relatively sheepishly, "I'm really sorry for being so rude! I'm Harry Potter, what's your name?"
Blondie studied his extended palm as if it held all the secrets to the universe before stretching out his hand in return.
"It's Draco," he responded cautiously, "Draco Malfoy."
Harry didn't notice Snape because he is too busy trying to ignore the rest of the student body.
Also, apparently Harry is a worrier. Who knew. But this story IS AN AU, which means that there will be personality changes. Though the AU part should be pretty obvious, seeing as Draco's a little lion.
Author is, however, sorry if she screwed up anyone Reader likes. She's (very obviously) new to this, and has yet to gain experience in the way of the fandom.
She also appreciates feedback. No, seriously. Help her.
If Reader has any comments, encouragement, flames, recommendations, requests, or just random words to list, please review. It would really help. Rest assured that any and all feedback will be accepted with a squeal and general happiness for the rest of the day. So. Yeah.