Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter and his friends. His enemies either, come to think of it. I wish.
I will try to stick to canon events when I can, but some things will be changed to fit my purposes. Enjoy.
Draco Malfoy had never really understood the reasoning behind much of what his father always said. "Draco, Gryffindors are far more foolish than we Slytherins, and should be treated as such." Why? Okay, the one Gryffindor he had met, Peter Pettigrew, was a complete fool, but… if his father was anything to consider about a Slytherin, they are hardly perfect so what's the difference? "We Purebloods, Draco, are far superior to half-bloods. Mudbloods do not deserve to learn magic. Muggles are mere filth and deserve nothing but death." But why were so many people considered beneath his family? What's so special about them? And wasn't his own Uncle Sev a half-blood? "Albus Dumbledore is a barmy old fool, Draco. Do not trust him." But everything he had read about Dumbledore had told another story.
So Draco told himself that once he started school, he would put his father's theories to the test.
"I must ask that you do one specific thing for me this year, my son." Draco looked up at his father, carefully aligning his face so as to hide the dread settling within him. "I found out only yesterday, and this is my final chance to inform you of this. Harry Potter will be in your year." Draco gasped. "I must ask that you befriend the boy. He may be – of assistance – once our Lord returns."
"Yes, father."
Draco said a quick goodbye to his mother and father and boarded the train. His father's friends' sons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle Jr., had already taken Draco's trunk to a compartment. Draco simply had to follow them to find it.
An excited squeal met his ears. "Harry Potter! Can you believe it?" The speaker was clearly a Hufflepuff, shown by the symbol of a yellow badger on her robes. Whispers followed that statement, and Draco knew what he had to do. He followed the direction of pointed fingers and whispers. He gestured to Crabbe and Goyle to follow, and they flanked behind him. He slid the compartment door open and was met with a shock.
He had already met this boy when he had gone to Diagon Alley for his school supplies. This was the same boy who he had spoken to in Madame Malkin's robe shop. How could he have been so stupid! He had spoken to Harry Potter of all people, without ever even recognizing him.
"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes." The boy seemed to recognize him as well, but was too busy staring at the two goons standing behind himself.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." There was a snicker from the boy who had been in the compartment with Potter before Draco had entered. He was clearly a Weasley. Time to find out whether his father was right about one thing, at least.
Draco stood a little straighter, and said with distain, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
Weasley flushed with anger, but Draco turned away from him, a dismissal clear in his silver eyes. Potter was his primary concern at the moment. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than other, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Draco held out his hand to Potter. But the other boy simply stared at him, refusing the hand.
After a bit more confrontation, and after the thug Goyle got bitten by Weasley's rat, we turned to leave. I knew a lost cause when I saw one, and Potter was definitely angry. I could make up for it at Hogwarts; he seemed Slytherin enough.
But as we swiftly walked out of the compartment, Malfoys do not run after all, a girl was coming to investigate the noise. She had probably had heard Goyle's scream. She had bushy brown hair, and large front teeth. But what drew me the most was her shining brown eyes.
"What are you three up to? I heard a scream."
Crabbe and Goyle straightened to their tallest, and I said lazily, "I'd say nothing, but you seem too smart to believe that."
The two boys stared at me in shock and apparent disgust, and the girl flushed slightly. "Get lost, Mudblood," one of the two said, and the girl's flush disappeared. She looked genuinely confused, and it hit me. She was muggleborn. And I had complimented her. I scoffed at her and strode past, not looking back. Crabbe and Goyle may be stupid, but they could make my life miserable if they mentioned this one at the next holiday.
Draco and his fellow first years formed two parallel lines and entered the Great Hall. He heard the muggleborn girl from before whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History." Draco rolled his eyes at Pansy Parkinson, who was beside him. She smirked.
The sorting hat sang, followed by loud cheers. And then Professor McGonagall stepped forward again.
"Abbott, Hannah," was the first, and an instant Hufflepuff. Draco whispered to Parkinson, "Bet on who's going to be what while we wait?"
"Sure, Dray!"
"Boot, Terry." Draco whispered "Gryffindor," and Pansy agreed.
"RAVENCLAW!" The two friends sighed.
"Brown, Lavender." Both assumed Gryffindor, and were both correct.
"Bulstrode, Millicent."
"Slytherin," Draco and Pansy whispered at the same time.
"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat shouted, and both grinned.
Both agreed on Slytherin for "Crabbe, Vincent," Hufflepuff for "Finch-Fletchley, Justin," and Slytherin for "Goyle, Gregory." All choices were correct.
A few more people were sorted, and then it was the girl from before.
"Granger, Hermione."
"Ravenclaw," Draco whispered, and again, Pansy agreed.
It took almost a minute before, "GRYFFINDOR!" Draco sighed. He heard Weasley groan, and changed the sigh into a snicker.
"Malfoy, Draco." Draco stepped forward, sitting on the stool. The second the hat touched his head, a deafening "SLYTHERIN!" was heard. He smirked, and went to sit beside his… his what? Crabbe and Goyle could not be considered his friends.
Pansy Parkinson joined him a short time later.
And then the next name he listened for was heard.
"Potter, Harry." The room went dead silent. And then the whispers started up again, just as badly as on the train. "Potter?" "THE Harry Potter?" "Do you see his scar?"
It took at least two minutes before anything happened. He saw Potter whispering something under his breath. A glance at the Professors' table showed the Headmaster leaning forward in his seat.
"Slytherin," Draco whispered to Parkinson.
"Definitely a Ravenclaw," she countered. "He defeated the Dark Lord, why would he be here?"
He had to admit she had a point. And finally…
"GRYFFINDOR!" The two Slytherins were stunned as the far table roared with applause.
Eventually, "Weasley, Ronald" became a Gryffindor, and "Zabini, Blaise," joined them at the Slytherin table. The Headmaster rose.
After Dumbledore's speech of "Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak!" the feast was served at last. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy was right about one thing: Dumbledore is a lunatic.
A student stood and came over toward the first years. "My name is Miles Bletchley. I'm Prefect for Slytherin House. Follow me." The prefect led the Slytherin first years to the dungeons. He stood in front of a large paining of Salazar Slytherin and said, "The password is Isanthus brachiatus."
The first years gasped as they entered the Common Room. On the stone walls were various paintings of various famous wizards and witches, all of whom had been in Slytherin. Draco recognized the portrait of Phineus Black, who he knew was somehow related to himself through his mother's family. On the back wall, between the tops of two staircases which he assumed led to the dormitories, was a large Slytherin crest.
The first years gathered around the fireplace, and Bletchley motioned them to sit. "While we're waiting, I'll give you all a little bit of information." He glared menacingly at them all, which immediately stopped their fidgeting. "Our head of house is Professor Snape. He is our potions master here at Hogwarts. Which is why our password is Isanthus brachiatus. This is an extremely rare form of mint, which is a potions ingredient. It is only found in the Americas. Ah, Professor Snape." Draco's godfather entered, and looked around at the assembled first years. "The first years, professor."
"Ah, yes. My thanks, Bletchley," Snape drawled. Bletchley left the group, acknowledging the thanks with only a nod of his head toward the professor. "I know a few of you, a few of you I do not at this time. I am your head of house and your potions master. My name is Severus Snape. I hope that you will find your time in Hogwarts to your liking. I will warn you, however, that you will find the other houses have a prejudice against Slytherin House. This is no fault of any of ours. It is a longstanding issue. And if you have any problems, do not be afraid to come to me with them." His dark eyes scanned the first years again, as if looking for signs of understanding. "You must stand together, for if you do not, the others will immediately take it as a sign of weakness. Try to stay together." He looked away from them for a moment, as if a thought had come to him. "These are dark times for the Noble House of Slytherin. You have been warned. Any questions?" No one said a word. "Follow me."
Snape led them to the staircases, where a girl was standing near one staircase. "This is Sarafina Vaisey. She is Prefect along with Mr. Bletchley. Ladies, Miss Vaisey will show you to your dorms. Good night. Gentlemen, if you would?"
Pansy said a brief good night to Draco, and followed Vaisey. Draco followed his Godfather toward his own dorms.
He slept like a rock that night.
Despite his Godfather's warning, the first week went well for Draco. He, Zabini, and Parkinson had become friends. Crabbe and Goyle remained close, and the two worked perfectly as his predetermined body guards.
It was Friday when he realized it. He had an infatuation with Hermione Granger.
"Ugh. Double Potions with the Gryffindors! Great way to end the week. Not." Blaise looked up upon not receiving a response from Draco. "Er, Draco. You okay, mate?"
"Hmm? Oh, Blaise. What were you saying? Sorry, spaced out a bit there."
"Never mind. Complaining about class. Double Potions, can't wait for. Taking it with the Gryffin-dorks, not so much." Those closest to them laughed, and Pansy nearly squealed with delight. Goyle guffawed stupidly; Draco wasn't sure if he had even made the connection that 'Gryffin-dorks' meant 'Gryffindor dorks,' but wasn't going to point that out.
They entered the dungeon classroom somewhat normally, with light conversation and small chuckles. This ended instantly the second Severus Snape entered the room. Draco had to admit, he was impressed. His Godfather could be quite terrifying when he tried to be. He glanced toward the Gryffindors. Potter and Weasley were exchanging amused glances, Hermio… No, he reminded himself. Granger was on the edge of her seat.
"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Draco smirked to himself. He could answer this question at eight, but Potter hadn't a clue. As Draco expected, Granger's hand was in the air.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Draco began to laugh silently, Potter still hadn't an idea. Crabbe and Goyle joined in, but it was unlikely that they had even heard of a bezoar. Granger was barely seated, her hand was so far in the air.
"What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Granger actually stood with her hand in the air at this question. As expected, Potter still hadn't any clue. Draco was struggling to keep his laughter silent.
"I don't know," Potter said softly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Draco stopped laughing abruptly. This was the worst possible thing for Potter to say. Snape would kill him for sure.
Points were taken, but no blood was shed. That's a plus, Draco muttered to himself. As much as he loved his Godfather, there was no way around the simple truth that Severus Snape was not a kind man.
Class went normally after that. Snape criticized everyone, except Draco. That is, until Longbottom managed to melt a cauldron and spread a halfway-completed potion over the stone floor. Snape, of course, blamed Potter, and took more points away from the Gryffindors. At this rate, Gryffindor would have no chance whatsoever at the cup. Not that Draco minded, of course. Gryffindors are more foolish than Slytherins, after all. Wasn't that what his father told him?
But his heart told Draco another story. Granger didn't seem foolish to him.
The next morning found a large group of Slytherin upper years crowded around a copy of yesterday's Daily Prophet. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy joined them and were stunned at the headline.
Gringotts Break-in Latest
Pansy gasped. "I thought no one could break into Gringotts!"
"What's a matter, Parkinson, afraid your family's meager funds will be targeted? Relax, girl, I'm sure you'll be fine." The speaker was the Slytherin Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint.
"Oi, Flint, lay off the girl, would you?" Zabini's voice was cold, and Flint sneered at him.
"Mighty protective, aren't you Zabini? I thought she was Malfoy's girl."
"I'm nobody's girl, Flint. Watch it."
Draco scoffed at Flint, rolling his eyes in dismissal. The three were joined by Crabbe and Goyle, and Draco and Blaise led the way out of the common room and up the stairs toward the Great Hall. Their first Flying Class was that day, and all of them were excited. It was the Gryffindors, and Draco found that he was eager to show off his flying talent in front of Granger. He learned to fly at age four (on a toy broomstick, but it counted), and started Quidditch at eight years old.
It was also something he would be better at than Potter.
He heard the familiar whooshing of wings as the owl post came into the hall. A glance across the hall told Draco that Longbottom had been brought something. A quick thought later, and Draco stood with a smirk, instantly followed by Crabbe and Goyle.
"You two in?"
Pansy and Blaise shook their heads, and watched their friends head toward the Gryffindor table.
"… if it turns red – oh… you've forgotten something."
Longbottom was telling Potter, Granger, and the others what a remembrall was, and as it turned red, Draco seized his chance. He took the remembrall out of Longbottom's hand, chancing a glance toward Granger. As expected, Potter and Weasley leapt to their feet, wands out, prepared for a fight.
McGonagall, of course, wouldn't let anything like that happen.
"What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Granger was glaring at him with distain. Draco dropped the Remembrall as though burned, suddenly feeling for the first time in his life the need to flee. "Just looking," he muttered, walking away with Crabbe and Goyle following him.
That afternoon found Draco and the rest of the Slytherins standing on the grounds, waiting for the Gryffindors and Madame Hooch. There were about twenty brooms. And old brooms, by the look of them.
The Gryffindors arrived at last; as expected, Granger was at the front of the cue. Madame Hooch arrived just seconds later.
"Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"
Draco's broom flew up to his hand instantly, just as he had known it would. Only his, Potter's, and Zabini's did so. Granger's broom rolled over on the ground, and Draco fought to turn his smile into a smirk.
Once everyone had managed obtaining their broomsticks from the ground, they mounted. Madame Hooch told Draco he was holding the broom wrong, much to the amusement of Potter and Weasley. He felt his face heat up slightly, and turned away from the grinning buffoons.
"On my whistle – three – two – "
Longbottom sure was a jumpy piece of work. He kicked off the ground, shooting upward. He probably reached at least twenty feet before looking down and…
With a loud thud and a CRACK, Longbottom returned to the ground. His broomstick was still rising, but Madame Hooch paid it no mind. No doubt a summoning charm could be used later. She was bending over Longbottom, muttering to herself. She helped the boy stand, and turned to the waiting class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
Draco Malfoy decided to use this time to get Hermione Granger's attention. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The rest of Slytherin House joined with him.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped one of the Gryffindor girls, whose last name Draco believed to be Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati." Trust Pansy to come to Draco's defense.
"Look!" Draco said, snatching Longbottom's remembrall from the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
A soft voice spoke up from the crowd. "Give that here, Malfoy." Draco turned and saw that the voice was Potter. He had hoped it was Granger, but you can't always get everything you want.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Potter shouted.
Draco decided it was show-off time. He mounted his broom and took off. "Come and get it, Potter!"
Granger said something to Potter, and Draco got angry. The anger suddenly turned into shock when Potter joined him in midair.
"Give it here, or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh yeah?" Draco tried to smirk at Potter, but was suddenly worried. Potter was suddenly speeding toward him. He barely managed to get out of the Gryffindor's way.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Potter was attempting a smirk, but failing miserably.
Draco was pissed. How dare Potter threaten him!
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, throwing the glass ball into the air. He immediately shoved the handle of his broom downward, lowering himself to the ground. He joined the crowd watching Potter chase after the Remembrall. Draco felt bad for destroying Longbottom's new gadget, but Potter had to be put in his place.
He watched in astonishment as Potter caught the remembrall barely a foot above the ground. The boy toppled into the grass, seemingly completely unharmed.
Suddenly a stern voice yelled, "HARRY POTTER!" Draco turned and saw Professor McGonagall striding across the lawn toward the watching class. Draco smirked at Potter as McGonagall continued. "Never – in all my time at Hogwarts – how dare you – you might have broken your neck –" Her Scottish accent was coming out much stronger in her worry and anger.
Patil and Weasley tried to get Potter out of trouble, but to seemingly no avail. She took Potter up to the castle and left the remainder of the students. Madame Hooch came back five minutes later and, hearing what had happened with Potter, dismissed the class. All of the Slytherins, as well as many Gryffindors, were annoyed at this; only Draco and Potter – and Longbottom – had even flown today. What a waste.
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
Draco was determined to make Potter suffer for his classmates' annoyance today. A lot of the Slytherins, actually everyone except for Crabbe and Goyle, were angry with Draco for getting class cancelled. They were angry at Potter more than anything, but Draco was the nearer target. If not for the influence his father held, he was sure he'd have gotten a lot more than an 'accidental' aguamenti charm to the head. As it was, he was probably lucky, but Potter still would be getting the brunt of this anger – anger which would only rise even higher at Potter's reply.
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry, again attempting a smirk.
A thought popped into his head. Potter was clearly not going to be expelled, so why not give the teachers another reason for expulsion?
"I'll take you on anytime on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?" He knew Potter couldn't have possibly heard of it, but it felt good to shove his nose in just how much he didn't know that Draco did…
Until the Weasel decided to stick his face into things. "Of course he has. I'm his second, who's yours?"
Draco was livid, but kept his face under his mask of indifference. He had learned this trick from his Godfather. He looked at Goyle and Crabbe, as if to determine an answer. If he had any real intent to duel Potter, he would have chosen Zabini, or maybe someone older, but for his purpose, it didn't really matter. "Crabbe. Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
He, Crabbe, and Goyle walked away, but Draco heard what Potter said next to Weasley. "What is a wizard's duel?" Draco smirked and kept walking. He'd heard enough to know that those two were actually going to go.
"Mr. Filch?" Draco had knocked on the door to the caretaker's office a few times, but it seemed Filch was out of the office. He tilted his head toward the dungeons, implying to Zabini that they should go, and started to walk away. He decided to go to his Uncle Sev instead, probably on his own. But before they could go far, he heard footsteps behind him. It was Filch.
"What's this? Just what do you think you're doing here, Malfoy, Zabini?"
"We just overheard some students talking, sir. And I thought it best if we told you what we had heard."
"Continue."
Zabini took up from there. "It was Potter and Weasley. They were talking about sneaking out of their dormitory tonight. They wanted to go to the trophy room when everyone was asleep."
"Did you hear what exactly their plans were?"
"No, sir," Draco continued. "They saw us and stopped talking."
"Very well."
Filch went inside his office, leaving the two Slytherins alone outside. They knew better than to say any more regarding this, so they grinned at one another and began their journey down to the dungeons.
Draco sat between Goyle and Blaise in the Great Hall. Draco had heard rumors that Harry Potter was to be the new Gryffindor seeker. This was the current topic of the table. Well, among the first years and the Quidditch players, anyway.
They were at the Halloween feast, and none of the first years were happy.
"Flint recons that Slytherin's got the cup this year, if they've got a first year seeker," Montague said with a cocky air.
Draco was annoyed. "I'm telling you, as much as I hate him, Potter was bloody brilliant on a broom!"
Terence Higgs glared at Malfoy. "And you're implying, then, that I'm going to lose to a bloody first year? No way in hell, Malfoy. Now quit your panicking, and eat your damn food. Bloody hell, you first years sure are getting ahead of yourselves."
Flint nodded. "Maybe it's time you firsties learn a rule we've long established in Slytherin House. Shut the hell up. Got it."
Draco glared at Flint, but said nothing.
Pansy sighed, reaching over to grab a pitcher of pumpkin juice. A pitcher which she dropped when they heard a BANG as Professor Quirrell barged into the Great Hall. The man ran up the aisle toward Professor Dumbledore.
"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."
And he fell to the floor in a faint. The first years leapt to their feet, joined in their panic by the majority of the school.
Dumbledore shot several purple firecrackers out of the end of his wand, at which everyone froze instantly.
"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."
Draco and the others looked to Miles Bletchley, who took control instantly. He led the first years, and the rest of the house as well, directly to their common room. Pansy was shaking in fear, staying as close to Crabbe and Goyle as she possibly could.
The next morning found Draco outside Professor Snape's office. He heard Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore inside discussing Potter, Granger, and Weasley.
"I don't understand why Granger would do something so stupid! She's top of her year!" Professor McGonagall stated, sounding upset.
"I highly doubt, Minerva, that it went as the students said. It wouldn't be the first time that a Potter tried to get rid of someone that he doesn't like, only to lose his nerve at the last moment. You remember, I hope…"
"Severus, I don't think that Mr. Potter would have set a mountain troll on Miss Granger." Dumbledore seemed to be losing his patience.
Draco gasped, leaning closer to the door. In his desperation to hear more, his cloak touched the door.
"It seems, Professors, that there is someone outside the door. If you'll excuse me." Snape opened the door a moment later and, looking down at his Godson, said "If you'll excuse me," glaring at the other teachers.
McGonagall and Dumbledore left, each with a look of "We'll continue this later" as they left.
"Draco, what gives you any right to listen outside my door?"
"I'm sorry, Uncle S… Professor. I just…"
"Are we in class, Draco? Are other students or professors in the room? It is not necessary to call me Professor."
"Thanks, Uncle Sev. I just… There were a few of us wondering how a troll could have possibly gotten into the school. Zabini thinks someone must have let it in? You think it was Potter, don't you? And that he was trying to… to kill Granger?"
"We have no idea currently how the troll got in, Draco. And I would appreciate it if you never mention what you overheard to any of your friends in Slytherin."
"Yes, sir. But… What did you mean by Potter trying to get rid of people he didn't like?"
"That is… It's none of your concern, Draco."
"Yes it is, Potter hates me! What if I'm next?"
"I wasn't referring to Potter. I was referring to… a relative of Potter's. And that is all I will say on this subject. I would highly recommend getting back to your dormitory, Draco. You don't want to be out after curfew."
"Yes, sir. Good night, Uncle Severus."
"Good night, Draco."
The Quidditch season had begun. Every morning, the Slytherin Quidditch team could be found outside in the freezing November winds, flying high above the stands playing mock-Quidditch games. The first game was that morning, and it was Slytherin verses Gryffindor. In other words, it was a perfect time to see Potter lose at Quidditch.
Draco passed the Gryffindor table, picking up conversation between Potter and Granger, in which Granger was pestering Potter to eat breakfast. Draco smirked.
Later, Draco found himself with Blaise and Pansy, followed by Crabbe and Goyle of course, climbing the stairs into the Quidditch stands.
Already the game was going in favor of Gryffindor. Until the commentator was heard saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"
The Slytherins began a chant. "Higgs for Slytherin! Higgs for Slytherin! Higgs for Slytherin!" Draco and the others joined in. Potter and Higgs were neck in neck. Flint saved the day, just before Potter grabbed the tiny golden speck, and blocked the Gryffindor, causing him to miss the Snitch. Higgs missed as well, but the game was still on.
Penalty shot to Gryffindor, of course, but what's ten points to a hundred fifty?
Higgs was good, but it seemed to Draco that Potter was better. So it was Potter that he watched. As the boy dodged a Bludger, his broom shuttered. His broom was trying to throw him off. He got steadily higher and higher, struggling to regain control on his broom. Draco tapped his Godfather, who was sitting in front of him and slightly to the left, on the shoulder, pointing up at Harry. Snape looked up and gasped, starting to mutter something that Draco couldn't hear or understand.
Suddenly, Draco and a few others were shoved aside as Granger made her way through the people. He saw Professor Quirrell slam into the seat in front of him.
Granger ducked under the seats and pulled out her wand. Draco couldn't see anything else, so turned his attention back to the game and to Potter's struggle. Suddenly, the boy was back in control of his Nimbus. He heard his Godfather yelp and start stomping out flames which suddenly were underneath him. Draco knew what Granger had done and was angry.
He would tell his Godfather later. Maybe his father was right about Gryffindors after all.
Potter won the game for Gryffindor. Draco was certain this day couldn't get any worse.
At the end of Potions the next day, Draco took his opportunity to inform Snape of what had happened.
"Class dismissed."
"Could I have a word, Professor Snape?"
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." Everyone left, leaving Draco and his Godfather alone.
"Um… Professor… I know how the fire was started at the match yesterday." Draco was staring intently at the corner of Snape's desk.
"And how is that, Draco?"
"I saw… Well, when Potter's broom was jinxed… I guess she thought it was you… but Granger did it."
"Thank you, Draco. I will deal with Miss Granger. Thirty points from Gryffindor, and ten points to Slytherin. You may go."
"Thanks, Uncle Sev."
Draco was in the library with Pansy and Blaise a few weeks later when he finally got the opportunity he had been waiting for to apologize to Neville Longbottom over the Remembrall incident. He had heard that the ball had been broken that day; he wasn't entirely sure if it was Potter or himself who had done it. But he was certain that Potter wouldn't have taken the blame.
"Be right back," he muttered to the other two. "Longbottom," he said, walking over toward the Gryffindor. "I heard that ball your grandmother sent you was broken before."
"What's your point? Come to gloat? Get away from me, Malfoy." Longbottom was clearly terrified. The boy stood and, grabbing his belongings, left the library.
Draco followed him. "Honestly, Longbottom. Listen to me for a damn second."
Longbottom looked at him for a second and then, shaking, started walking faster.
Draco sighed. "Locomotor Moris." He approached the stricken Gryffindor. "You call yourself a Gryffindor. You're not nearly brave enough for that house. Just forget what I was going to say. Good luck undoing the curse." Draco went back into the library, leaving Longbottom to get back to Gryffindor on his own.
He sat down and told Pansy and Blaise what had happened. Zabini told him to go undo the curse, and the three went to do so, but the Gryffindor had already gone. With a sigh, they went back to their Potions essays.
The next week, Longbottom was avoiding Draco like the plague, as were most of the other Gryffindors. Draco was angry at the fact that all of a sudden Granger was best friends with Weasley and Potter. He didn't know what she could possibly see in those two idiots.
They did everything together, much like Draco, Blaise, and Pansy did. And why? They were only friends because of a stupid mountain troll.
But when he voiced this to Pansy and Blaise, the only thing they could say is, "Why do you care, Dray?"
He knew exactly why he cared, but didn't want to inform them of this reason. He had feelings for the muggleborn witch. But he couldn't tell either of his friends about this. His father would never let him hear the end of it if he found out about it. Muggles and muggleborns are filth; his father had always told him so. The very idea of bringing Hermione Granger home to meet Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy gave him a stomach ache.
No, he knew he would just have to get over it. It seemed that Pansy liked him well enough. Maybe he and she could end up together, maybe, and have a happy little pureblood family. That would make his parents proud of him. They would be delighted. And it's not like he didn't like Pansy. They were friends. But she was more of a sister to him than a love interest. But who marries for love nowadays anyway? Purebloods marry for status, power, and money. Why should he, Draco Malfoy, be any different?
At breakfast a few weeks later, an argument seemed to be breaking out between the 'Golden Trio,' as the Slytherins liked to call Granger, Potter, and Weasley. Draco drew closer to eavesdrop and heard something which stunned him.
"Oh, come on, Hermione! Lighten up! It's only Herbology! We can skip it, just this once!" Weasley was pleading.
"Absolutely not, Ronald. We can't just skip because we feel like it." One point to Granger Malfoy thought to himself.
"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Weasley pleaded further.
"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing –"
"Shut up!" Potter muttered to them, having caught Draco's eye.
Draco walked away, catching up to Zabini, and they went together to Transfiguration. He would go spy on Hagrid and the trio during the morning break.
After class, Draco half ran down out to the grounds. As he drew closer to Hagrid's hut, he slowed his pace, going as slowly as possible. He dropped down behind the window, listening in to the conversation inside.
"Isn't he beautiful!" Hagrid said, and Draco rolled his eyes. The gamekeeper would call a dangerous monster beautiful. "Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!"
Draco stood, peering in through the window. Granger was talking now.
"Hagrid, how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"
Malfoy watched as Hagrid opened his mouth to answer, before all the color drained from the man's face. Draco's silver eyes met Hagrid's black ones, and Draco smirked and ran off.
Every time Draco saw the trio, he smirked at them. And he could tell that, every single time, they were terrified.
"Weasley is in the hospital wing. I'm going to harass him. See you guys later," Draco said to his friends. It was a week after he had seen the Dragon from Hagrid's side window. What better time to harass the trio than now?
He reached the hospital wing, and then realized that he had no reason to be visiting Ron Weasley. Madame Pomfrey would throw him out immediately.
"Mr. Malfoy, are you injured?"
The nurse's voice startled him out of his thoughts.
"No, ma'am. I have to borrow a book from Ronald Weasley. Someone told me I'd find him here?"
"Yes, he is here. Now don't bother him too much, Mr. Malfoy. The dog bite is quite infected, and is rather painful for him."
"Of course, ma'am."
Draco made his way over toward the one occupied bed in the place. His smirk firmly in place, he stood beside Weasley.
"So, you've told her it's a dog bite. How typical."
"Oh, piss off, Malfoy."
"Now is that any way to treat someone who just happens to be keeping a rather large secret for a certain friend of yours?"
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Well, now that you mention it, I'd like to make sure you get the best care you can! And it's no good lying to a mediwitch, is it? Not if you want her to heal you."
"And what exactly does that have to do with you, Malfoy?"
"Well, I could tell her, you know. Tell her what you were really bitten by. And then the dragon's gone, and so is Hagrid. And your hand's healed."
"Piss off."
"Could I possibly borrow your… charms book?" The book was lying on the bedside table beside Weasley, and Madame Pomfrey was coming over to change the bandages. This visit would have to be cut short.
"Yes, as long as it gets you to go away," Weasley said, his ears turning red.
Draco took the charms book to the library to go through. Why not? he asked himself. He had the book. Weasley gave it to him. Why not search it for funny little details of Granger's life. Maybe there was parchment inside to give him clues, or maybe Weasley was one to write in books.
He flipped through the pages, occasionally stopping to look at some random thing written in the margins. The writing wasn't messy enough to be Weasley's… must be a second hand book. No surprise there he reminded himself.
There was a folded up parchment about half way through the book. He pulled it out and read.
Dear Ron,
How are you? Thanks for the letter – I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.
Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.
Send me an answer as soon as possible.
Love,
Charlie
Draco smirked. This day couldn't have gotten any better.
That Saturday night, Draco snuck out of the Slytherin dormitory. He normally stayed in at curfew; he didn't want his Godfather to say anything negative about his activities to his father, after all.
But that time, he had no choice. He had to get the trio caught. And preferably, he wanted them caught with the dragon.
He made his way silently toward the Astronomy tower. That was the tallest one. And he waited.
Thinking back on his actions, it was rather stupid to just stand at the foot of the stairs waiting for the trio. But this didn't even cross his mind until…
"Mr. Malfoy!" His heart sank. Professor McGonagall had caught him. She was wearing a tartan bathrobe, her hair in a grey hairnet. She took him by the ear. "Detention! And twenty points from Slytherin!" Draco flinched. "Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you –"
"You don't understand, Professor! Harry Potter's coming – he's got a dragon!"
Her face tightened. "What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"
Draco tensed. If Snape found out, so would his father. He was doomed.
He received the letter the next morning at breakfast.
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Flich in the entrance hall.
Professor M. McGonagall
He met Mr. Filch at ten fifty-five that night. This is when he found out that Granger, Potter, and Longbottom were also caught last night.
They followed Filch out onto the grounds. He was delighted at the thought of their punishments.
"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh? Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me…. It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed…. Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."
There was a voice in the distance. "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started." Draco was much calmer now. Hagrid may be stupid, but he isn't cruel.
Their relief must have shown, as Filch said nastily, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy – it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."
Draco heard one of the others moan and he stopped dead. "The forest? We can't go in there at night – there's all sorts of things in there – werewolves I heard."
Hagrid met up with them and, after a brief argument, Filch left them.
"I'm not going in that forest." Draco was mortified to hear the sheer terror coming out in his own voice.
After another argument, the five of them went to the edge of the forest. Hagrid pointed out a silvery substance which Draco recognized as unicorn blood. He said there was a unicorn badly hurt in the forest, and that they would be looking for it.
Draco claimed Fang, and he and Longbottom were sent together one way, and Granger, Potter, and Hagrid went the other. They followed the path in silence.
There was more and more blood, and it was getting thicker and thicker. But Draco was getting quite bored, and he knew that Longbottom was quite possibly as terrified as he was. He decided to get a change in partners, if that was possible, and stepped off of the path. He looped around in front of Longbottom. He jumped out and Longbottom screamed, shooting red sparks in the air. Malfoy laughed, and the Gryffindor scowled at him, and they heard Hagrid crashing through the underbrush toward them.
Malfoy had never seen anyone as angry as Hagrid was.
He led them back toward the others, and Draco got his wish. He swapped partners. Only he was put with Potter instead of Granger.
Draco and Potter went with fang, following a path which was getting harder to follow. The blood on the forest floor was getting thicker and thicker as they went along.
Potter flung his arm out in front of Draco, and the two stopped. "Look," Potter whispered.
They had found the unicorn, and it was dead. A cloaked figure was standing over the unicorn. It bent down over the pure white figure. And it began to drink the blood of the unicorn.
Draco screamed and ran with fang away, toward where he knew Hagrid was supposed to be. He found the others and, still shaking, told Hagrid what he had seen. They ran, following the path which Draco had taken back to them.
Potter was on the back of a centaur when they found him. Granger ran ahead, asking if Potter was alright.
He had a lot to tell Blaise and Pansy about.
A few months later, and school was almost at a close. The points were in, and the Great Hall was decorated in Slytherin green and silver. Draco was delighted, as were the rest of the Slytherins.
Before the feast started, Dumbledore stood at the front of the Hall.
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six, and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."
There were screams from the Slytherin table. The Hufflepuffs were clapping politely, but no one else bothered.
And then Dumbledore continued. "Yes, yes well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account."Draco's smile slipped a little.
"Ahem, I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points." There were cheers from Gryffindor, but several of the Slytherins looked at one another in confusion.
"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points." This one Draco understood. She had gotten through his Godfather's potions test to get to the sorcerer's stone.
"Third – to Mr. Harry Potter for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points." Draco did quick math. Gryffindor was tied with Slytherin. There was screaming from every house except Slytherin.
Dumbledore raised his hand, and the room silenced.
"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
Draco swore later that there had been an explosion. Every single Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff was screaming and clapping. Only Slytherin remained silent.
"Which means, we need a little change of decoration." The Slytherin green and silver became Gryffindor red and gold. The serpents were replaced by lions. Snape was shaking hands with McGonagall, and only Draco could see the smoldering fire in his Godfather's dark eyes.
"Well, Father is going to kill me. I'm second in our year. And, get this. I'm second to Granger." Draco was looking over his scores with Blaise and Pansy and the others on the way to King's Cross Station.
"I'm sure it'll be fine, Draco," Millicent Bulstrode spoke up. "She's a suck-up. The teachers loved her. Not your fault."
"She's right, Dray. Relax. It'll be fine," Pansy said to him.
"Tell that to my father."
"We will, Draco, now shut up and pass me a pumpkin pasty."
"Always worried about your stomach, Blaise," Draco laughed and threw a pumpkin pasty at his friend.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were waiting at the station. Upon seeing Draco and his friends headed their way, Narcissa smiled, and Lucius glared. He was visibly angry.
"Draco, darling, I've missed you so much! How was it! Tell me everything, dear." Narcissa was beside herself.
"Not now, Narcissa. This can wait until we get home. Draco, where is Mr. Potter?" Zabini and Parkinson looked surprised at the question.
"He… he refused to…" Draco swallowed at the anger on his father's face. "Please forgive me, father."
"One simple task, Draco. Was it really too much to ask? Never mind. Come along," and with a wave of his wand, Draco's trunk was floating along in front of the family.
"I'll see you all soon," Draco muttered to his friends. They looked sympathetic. He turned and followed his parents toward the fireplace. They always took the floo home from King's Cross.
He gulped as he took the floo powder. "Malfoy Manor," he said, throwing the powder into the fire. He stepped through and was whisked away.
His heart was in his stomach. His father was extremely angry. This could not bode well for Draco.
Poor Draco. This can't be a good sign for the start of summer. Hope everything goes well for him. Book two up soon. If anyone has any requests for scenes they want used, Books two on of course, please let me know.