A/N: This is short (3,000 words) and something I thought of one day when I was procrastinating writing Contracted Love. I may or may not continue this...I'm putting it on Complete, but if anyone wants me to keep hacking at it, I might.
Tell me of any instances of OOC from Draco, please! I appreciate it. This is unbeta-ed and quite honestly, has only been subjected to a quick run-through. I haven't really gone back and edited it, but I don't think there are many glaring mistakes.
Anyway, enjoy!
From the moment Draco is old enough to understand the meaning of 'expectations,' he knows 4 things with certainty:
1) He, as a Malfoy, must be the best in everything.
2) He, as a Malfoy, must be in Slytherin.
3) He, as a Malfoy, must be the leader, the 'Prince,' of his House.
4) He, as a Malfoy, must learn to control his emotions and hide them.
This doesn't bother him at the time. He shows up for lessons with his tutors obediently and memorises the important society members, with their face on one side of a card and information on the other. He practices writing formal letters, threatening notes, thank you cards. His godfather teaches him the art of Potions, coaching him on weekends when he escapes Hogwarts. He has daily practices with his father and learns to secret his feelings and emotions away beneath an expressionless mask. His efforts are deemed acceptable at age nine, and by age ten, nothing wrong is found with his smirk.
By the time he is eleven and sauntering on the Hogwarts Express, he is as close to a perfect, pureblood son as his parents can want.
On the outside, that is.
On the inside, Draco, feeling fiercely independent as only an eleven year old away from home can, is having second thoughts about Rule #2. He sits with the friends he has known for life, drawls arrogantly about the Sorting and Slytherin and how disgraceful the other Houses are, but in all honesty, Draco finds this rather boring.
Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe - as well as the other girls Draco doesn't really care about - already respect them. They look at him with adoration on the females' part and admiration on the males', listen to his sneering words and nod obediently. It is easy, effortless, to speak about stupid things and have them agree without question. Their loyalty is everything Lucius Malfoy wants for his child, but the aforementioned child thinks it's quite irritating.
"Say," he speaks up after that fool Longbottom has disappeared, "I'm in a House like...oh, Hufflepuff."
"You?" Pansy immediately chimes in. "Hufflepuff? Oh, Draco, don't joke."
Daphne laughs disdainfully. "You couldn't be one if you tried."
He persists with the matter. "Say I am, Daphne. What would you all think?"
They ponder this for a while. They can't imagine their smirking, blond leader in any House other than Slytherin; it baffles them.
Blaise Zabini, with his drawling accent, replies, "I suppose we'd have to support you." He shrugs. "I'd assume you're doing it for a reason, yeah?"
"Naturally," Draco says with poorly-concealed disgust. "I shan't mix with the Hufflepuffs unless I'm going to use them in some way. Honestly, Blaise."
This causes some laughter and the conversation turns to other subjects, but Draco is more pensieve, staring out the window and wondering - just wondering - what if.
Later, when he is sitting under the Sorting Hat, cringing away from the dirty hem, imagining all the nasty bugs it has, he remembers that conversation on the train. He feels the Hat rifling through his head, reading all of his thoughts and viewing his memories carelessly, and for a boy raised to believe that 'My head is mine and nobody shall enter,' this is rather disconcerting.
Slytherin, eh? The Hat says, preparing to open its brim. Only fitting for a Malfoy.
This is when Draco makes a decision that changes his life. 'Are you really going to Sort me based on my family?' He thinks back, with all the disdain a young, spoilt, rich boy can muster. 'Perhaps it's time for a new method of Sorting.' He thinks of Slytherin, with their power-plays and shifting balances. He had been raised to fit in seamlessly, to take the reins and keep them in one tightly clutched fist, but Draco doesn't like the sound of that, suddenly. Slytherins hardly want a leader, and he would be constantly fighting for their support. He doesn't like the idea of spending seven years constantly concerned about other people - really, why should he care what they thought?
Besides, living in a House with others exactly like him isn't appealing at all.
The Hat makes an affronted sound. Ravenclaw, then.
Draco's mind turns to the blue-clad table, and his nose wrinkles delicately. Ravenclaws, with their books and theories, too wrapped up in minute details to venture out into the world. He wants something more with his life than to memorise textbooks. He wants textbooks to be written about him. Anyway, he can't comply with Rule #3 in Ravenclaw. They aren't likely to follow a leader unless the individual has proven his worth intellectually, and Draco finds this a rather boring concept.
Gryffindor, the Hat offers desperately, and Draco is unable to keep a sneer from crossing his face. Gryffindor, with their boorish ways and loud voices, whose only claim to fame is 'bravery,' and everybody worth their Galleons knows that nobody cares about bravery in the real world. It's just an adjective, slapped on amongst chivalry and honor to appease Godric Gryffindor, who galloped around trying to save damsels in distress while the other founders went around, well, founding.
I can't put you in Hufflepuff, the Hat says, and Draco can sense a tinge of worry at him, the unSortable student. You have too much potential.
Hufflepuff...nobody really knows about Hufflepuff. Draco closes his eyes as he thinks about it, the hoards of leaderless children milling about, too ashamed to speak out and show their potential. A smile curves his lips as he pictures himself amongst them, shining in his place.
Ten minutes later, when his friends are shooting him incredulous looks and he's relaxing at the Hufflepuff table, he spares a glance around him. His House mates are looking at him, the Malfoy Heir, somewhat suspiciously, but he doesn't mind.
He has seven years, after all.
The largest advantage, Draco soon finds, to Hufflepuff is that the teachers don't seem to care what he does.
He can be caught out of hours trying to find the kitchen and look bashfully at his feet, explaining that a House mate was ill and he was trying to fetch some chicken soup, and the teacher would sigh and tell him to continue with his job without docking points.
His father had warned him about Dumbledore keeping a steady eye on him, but Draco realises that the yellow and black badge on his chest only earns him a careless, indulgent smile, and a soft order to "hurry up, now, you're late to class" from the Headmaster.
He walks the halls confidently and keeps smirking at his Slytherin friends until they agree to meet him in an abandoned corridor one evening, where he explains to them his plan of taking over Hufflepuff House. It's a truly Slytherin move, to hide amongst the weakest, the overlooked, and turn them into a force to be reckoned with, and his classmates accept him once more as their leader.
In his House, it starts slow. He sees them watching him uncertainly, but he also knows they are trying to include him. He's one of them, they think and he notices, and they'll do anything to include him. Poor boy, they're probably murmuring to themselves. Raised by Lucius Malfoy and dumped in Hufflepuff. Ashamed, scared, well, we'll help him.
It begins, surprisingly, with punishment.
Draco sits in class and earns points like they are nothing, racking them up while appearing completely nonchalant. He looks up from doodling on his paper to answer absently, "A swish and flick," and receives five points in one class, and explains why a base stabilises a potion for ten points in the next.
He is chastised by the prefects, who tell him that earning points promotes inter-House competition, and later he complains to his year mates, telling them that just because he's a Hufflepuff doesn't mean he's a coward, and that strikes a chord. He guides them, drops hints that they are settling for less, points out instances when Hufflepuffs back down, cower, and they listen.
Next time a prefect calls him up for earning points, they jump to his defense as only indignant Puffs can do, repeating some of the things Draco has told them, and he feels proud. The same day, he writes a letter to his father, explaining his progress, and his father replies with, 'I'm proud of you,' and Draco gleams.
In Herbology, Draco makes it a point to work near Potter, who starts eyeing him with curiosity instead of malice. In the common room at night, Draco begins helping a girl named Elsie Jenkins with her Potions homework, and he can almost see the approval as the lone Hufflepuff begins to be accepted.
By the time he is ready to go home for the holidays, Draco has established himself as the wild card of Hufflepuff, the one that is always speaking of doing this and doing that and more more more, telling the others that they have to assert themselves, and slowly, things begin to change.
Ernie Macmillan, the son of a reputable Ministry official, invites Draco over for part of Christmas break, and Lucius gives Draco permission to accept. He spends a week attending Ministry Christmas functions with Ernie, and he teaches the other boy some of the tricks he uses when talking to important people. He smiles at the Head of the Aurors and makes polite conversation with somebody his father is working on a deal with.
"You're a natural at this, you know?" Ernie tells him with admiration after he finishes telling a funny story to the man, somebody high up in the Legislation branch, and excuses himself to fetch a drink.
Draco pauses, the thought never crossing his mind. You're a natural. To him, it doesn't come naturally, not really, not when he remembers the hours he spent memorising conversation starters and practicing conversations with his mother. "You think?"
Ernie nods energetically, his brown hair falling into his face. "I've been doing this all my life," he tells Draco as they look for a drink that isn't alcoholic. It's a slightly arrogant statement, but Draco finds nothing wrong with a bit of well-placed arrogance. "And you're much better at it than I."
The open compliment throws him for a loop. No Slytherin would dare to say such a thing to another; it gives them power. But one look at Ernie's open face coaxes a smile out of Draco, who shrugs and says without the usual air of superiority, "Thanks. I've had a lot of practice."
When he returns home, his father calls him to his office and grills him on his school year, his grades, his friends. He sits his son down opposite him and eyes him imposingly, but Draco doesn't fidget. "Son," he says softly, carefully, "Hufflepuff?"
"You know my reasons, Father," replies Draco instantly. Lucius prods him to explain and he does, but as Draco speaks of fanciful plans and shifting power balances, he finds that he's not thinking of Hufflepuff House as something to be conquered, not really.
The only rule of Hufflepuff House is thus: the House will stand behind any individual belonging to it, as soon as she or he has proving herself or himself.
And Draco almost feels unloyal and guilty and dishonorable - words not associated with him, usually - when he tells his father that Ernie's allegiance is worth more than he'd anticipated because really, what Hufflepuff views friends as something to be acquired for personal gain?
When Draco returns to school, he is greeted with excitement from the other boys and even a few girls, and he fits seamlessly into the group as they sit in front of a fireplace, talking excitedly about their holidays.
He leans forward and proposes a trip to the kitchen, an idea he's been thinking about for a while, and a few faces look hesitant. "Come on," he coaxes, and suddenly this moment is a test of his leadership, of his influence, of his belonging. "What's the harm? I've been down there before."
This makes them gasp and look at themselves, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, one of two mudbloods in their year, turns his round, shiny face towards Draco and says, "Really?"
Draco resists the urge to make a cutting comment based on his blood, as he knows it will earn him punishment and hateful looks, and he can't have that - not when he's so close to becoming their leader. "Yes," he says, and there's not a hint of the disdain he feels in his voice. "Many times. Flitwick caught me once, you know," he adds casually, and leans back to inspect his nails.
One of the girls, Hannah Abbot, leans forward and says breathlessly, "What happened?"
He shrugs a shoulder casually, as if the effort bores him. "Nothing. He let me go."
He feels their excitement thrumming, senses it, and ten minutes later when he and two others are sneaking through the draughty corridors, he feels it inside him as well. He leads Ernie and Wayne Hopkins, another boy with deep roots in the Ministry, towards the entrance. They tickle the pair and slip in, and are greeted with bowing house elves asking for orders.
"Wicked," murmurs Wayne, who flashes a smile at Draco. "Brilliant, Draco."
This is the first time Wayne has called him by his first name, instead of a slightly disdainful Malfoy, and Draco enjoys it more than he should. "I'd like an ice-cream sundae," he orders, and gives specifics to an overly excited elf.
Five minutes later, Draco is eating his sundae in bliss when a chocolate chip hits the corner of his mouth.
"Sorry, Draco," Ernie says, reddening. "I wasn't aiming for you."
"Oh, 's fine," Draco mumbles, hiding a wicked smile, and he uses his spoon to flick one right back at Ernie.
Laughter fills the kitchen as it, predictably, turns into an all out war, the boys running and ducking behind counters and cabinets, chucking chocolate bits and almonds at each other. Draco has an idea, and he has a whispered conversation with an elf, before sneaking up right behind Wayne and pouring chocolate syrup all over his hair.
"Arrrgh!" Wayne yells, and takes a spoonful of melting ice-cream, pelting it at Draco, who tries to duck but slips and crashes to the ground. He's laughing uncontrollably, squirming and flinching as the cold mush slides down his collar, and he doesn't care that his hair is mussed or that there are elves watching in amusement; it doesn't matter that he isn't acting to befit a Malfoy.
They collapse in a heap of sweaty laughter, and the elves move to clean up the mess and press steaming cups of hot chocolate with frothy marshmallows in their hands already, and they drink the scalding mixture and troop back to the Hufflepuff common room red-cheeked and eyeing each other with more friendliness than they ever had before.
It is approaching February when Harry Potter finally speaks to him.
Draco is headed to lunch, when Potter jumps from behind a statue and tugs on Draco's sleeve.
"Are you mad?" is Draco's heated response before he realises that it is the Boy-Who-Lived accosting him in the hallway, and such he should moderate his response. "Hello, Potter."
Potter's hair is mussed and he has a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He's carrying a broom, and Draco grinds his teeth at the reminder that the boy beat him to the Quidditch team. "Ron'll go ballistic if he sees me talking to you," Potter explains, tilting his head towards an empty corridor.
Draco follows with only a bit of hesitation. Potter is a valuable ally to have. "What do you want?"
"To talk to you," Potter says, reaching out to fiddle with his hair. "Why...Hufflepuff? I just don't understand why you'd be Sorted there."
Draco rolls his eyes, and can't stop himself from answering curtly, "I chose to be in this House, Potter."
"But...why?"
Draco raises an eyebrow. "What values does your house have? Bravery? Chivalry? What good are those? Hufflepuff is known for its dedication, loyalty, hard work, perseverance. All qualities I'd like to have."
Potter shakes his head. "Hufflepuff likes to think they have all those," he says, and Draco's eyes narrow. "I've never seen a Hufflepuff actually do something."
"Maybe you weren't watching."
"You'd be a better Slytherin," he says incredulously.
He shrugs and turns to leave. "Think what you wish, Potter. Just think - I picked Hufflepuff over Slytherin and Gryffindor."
He leaves the Boy-Who-Lived gaping after him, and when Draco returns to his house, he is full of indignant anger.
Never mind leading Hufflepuff House. Draco is going to change Hufflepuff House.
"Win the House Cup?" Zacharias Smith's voice is high-pitched. He stares at Draco like he's gone 'round the bend. "Impossible."
Justin, full of nervous energy and constant excitement, shrugs as well. "I don't know, Draco, I don't think that's even possible."
Draco frowns. It's true. The year is almost over and Hufflepuff is last in Quidditch, last in the points race. "Not this year," he drawls to cover up his mistake. "Next year."
Wayne looks at Draco. Ever since the kitchens incident, he has become Draco's preferred friend, alongside with Ernie. All three of the boys are quite similar, used to political functions and the such. "I don't think the rest of the House would like that."
This is true. Hufflepuff works as a team, thinks as a clan, walks at the pace of the smallest and weakest. Draco purses his lips, remembers the conversation he'd had with Potter, and starts to smile.
That evening, while in the Common Room, Draco tells his story to Ernie and Wayne.
"WHAT?" Ernie says heatedly, gaining the attention of most of the House. Hufflepuff is quite protective of their first years. "Harry Potter said that?"
Draco nods solemnly, feeling the gazes settle on them. Mentioning Harry Potter is a sure-fire way to gain their awareness. "He basically implied we were a bunch of cowards."
The fifth year prefect, Jillian Raybock, walks over to the trio. "What are you talking about, Ernie? Draco?"
Wayne is upset as well, but he controls his voice as he explains, "Draco was talking to Potter, who asked why Draco had been Sorted into Hufflepuff. Draco said he'd chosen Hufflepuff because of the values we had, like dedication and hard work, and Potter said that we liked to think we had those qualities, but we never did anything."
Her gaze narrows. "Harry Potter said that?"
Draco nods, eagerly anticipating the next move. There is no explosion, but Jill smiles tightly and stomps away to her friends, where they all begin whispering heatedly. He is sure that, by the end of the night, all of Hufflepuff House will know that the Boy-Who-Lived has slighted them.
At the end of the year, when the biased Dumbledore announces Gryffindor's win, Draco locks eyes with Potter and sends him a silent message. Next year, he promises. Next year, it's ours.