Ch 01 - This is my dream!

11-year old Draco Malfoy opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was the light pouring in his room. His room in the Manor.

'Hm.' He had an odd feeling, like he was forgetting something important. He knew this was to be an important day, but could not figure out why. He got his wand from under the pillow and performed the simple charm for finding out today's date. He should not have had access to his wand, let alone use it - he knew that, of course. But there were more benefits to being a Malfoy than just wealth, and one of those benefits was the removal of tracking charm on his wand.

In slightly glowing letters, the date appeared in front of his eyes: 'September 1st, 1991'.

Of course! He was supposed to start Hogwarts today! Only he knew how much he had dreamed about this day (okay, maybe Father had an inkling about it, too), about the moment the Sorting Hat would yell 'Slytherin!', about eating all the sweets he wanted for dessert and spending time with all his Pureblooded friends... So, that explained the excited part of himself. Then, what about the uneasy part? That one part of his brain that was screaming at him that he wasn't supposed to be here? That there was something missing? That..

'Oh..', and his stomach sunk as he remembered. Yes, he definitely wasn't supposed to be here.

'Fuck it. I'll enjoy this as much as I can', he thought as he clambered out of bed and made his way to the ensuite.

Hermione Granger felt herself waking up but refused to open her eyes. She was comfortable and at peace and thought she deserved a lie-in. She stayed like that, bundled up in blankets and pillows until a familiar voice came from the hallway, accompanied by the soft knock on her door.

'Hermione, dear? You should get into the bathroom soon, the train leaves in two hours and there's a bit of a drive into town and to the station.'

She was thinking of nothing in particular, letting her thoughts wander about the things and people she loved when that voice had broken the silence. Everything came to an abrupt halt, including her breathing, and went into overdrive a few seconds later.

'Train? What train?' She finally opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She was in her parent's house, in her own room. It looked as it always did: her queen size bed, on the left side of the room, with simple, light-colored linen and an impressive amount of pillows (her Mum had once asked her if she still had room to sleep in there, but given the 2-hour silence treatment she had received afterward, had decided to not bring it up again); her ever growing collection of books was mostly lined up in the 2 bookcases on the opposing wall, but some of them were littered across the other flat surfaces of the room - a couple on the nightstand next to her bed, a few more on her desk and even one in the window seat.

She had specifically requested that window seat when her parents redid her room, some five years prior, along with the queen bed and the dark red curtains. Her parents thought a cream, somewhat golden color for the walls would go well the curtains and she was more than glad to be rid of the very light pink walls her room had before (really, just because she was a girl did not mean she liked pink - what had her parents been thinking?!).

Reluctantly and still wondering what train they were supposed to catch (her Dad loved to drive, what would today be any different?), she got out of bed with plans to have a look out the window, but before she made it there, her small foot collided with a very big and seemingly, very heavy object on the floor.

'Sweetheart, you don't want to be late on the first day at your new school!', another voice came from outside her door. Hermione was throwing confused glances between the door and the offending object on the floor, which she had managed to identify as her trunk - seriously, what did wizards have against suitcases?! - and then what her Dad said finally clicked into place - today was the day she was starting at Hogwarts! The look on her face was changing from confused to joyful to somewhat mischievous in a matter of seconds while she thought 'This is going to be fun'.

Outside her room, her parents were beginning to get a bit worried. Their daughter had never liked mornings, but had always managed to wake up when she wanted to without even needing an alarm clock. Not to mention the fact that she had been overly enthusiastic about going away to school the day before, they had honestly expected her to fret around the house at about seven or eight in the morning, throwing them accusing glares and saying they were going to make her late on the first day of school.

'Are you feeling ok?', her Mum asked as she opened the door. One look at the expression on her daughter's face and she felt herself relax.

'Oh, just fine. I was just going over everything I need again, in case I had forgotten something', Hermione answered with a smile that lit up her face.

One of the reasons Ron Weasley had desperately wanted for him to finally start school was not the fact that he would finally be able to use his wand. Although he and his family were Purebloods, they did not enjoy the perks or benefits of the wealthy Purebloods - him and his brothers and sister could not use their wands outside of school. No, the reason was completely different.

It was quietness that he wanted. Not during the day or evenings, obviously. No one would think that a castle filled with hundreds of teenagers would be quiet. He did not even think he would like that. But in the mornings.. that was a whole different story.

For reasons he never really understood, all his older siblings had come out as morning people. The gleeful, chirpy, obnoxious kind of morning people. And so bloody loud. Both him and his younger sister were perfectly happy to wreak havoc, but only after a decent amount of time had passed since they had woken up and most certainly after having breakfast. Since an early age, he had hoped his roommates at boarding school will resemble him and prefer to speak little before food was in their systems, or none at all.

To top it all, this was the morning when Mum had to get 5 adolescents ready and aboard the train which would take them to school. And of course, no one was ready - no one except his sister, who would not be joining them on the train, thus having nothing to prepare besides herself. She was unusually quiet today, but he guessed it was because she felt left behind - the youngest of the Weasley siblings would be starting school a year from now, which made her miserable for a variety of reasons, including spending the next 10 months with mostly just her Mum around. Ron did not envy that.

He was being yelled at by his Mum again, to 'hurry up with that breakfast and get your trunk ready!', and watching the twins with an unreadable expression. He had just decided to ignore the yelling in favor of the waffles sitting in his plate, given that his trunk just happened to be completely packed, when Ginny's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

'Why are you looking at them like that? You'll be seeing plenty of them at school. Unlike me.'

Ron guessed that his sister was really more affected about them leaving than she was letting on. He understood that better now and thought about it for a few seconds, but in the end decided that he did not want anything to disturb his mood. This was about a good day and good things in his life. Though he had to admit, it was a bit of a weird dream.

Draco had forgotten about the trips his Father took to muggle London on occasion. 'For privacy', he said. As a young child, Draco did not really understand what could be so important about the meetings his Father was having that required such a level of privacy, given how much he despised Muggles. His displeasure at being in such close proximity to them was evident on the man's face and in the way he always cast a cleaning charm on himself every time one of them passed them by too close or accidentally touched him.

One of these meetings was the reason Draco found himself walking through King's Cross alongside Lucius. He was looking around while his trunk was following them of its own accord. He noticed a scrawny boy, some distance away, pushing a cart piled with a trunk and a cage containing a.. white owl? But he looked too young, too small to be attending Hogwarts yet. Could that be ... ?

'Father, do you know who that dark-haired boy to our left is?' he asked. Although the place was crowded, he knew that his father would know where to look, even without him pointing directly at the kid ('Malfoys do not point!'). They both watched as the boy in question approached a mass of ginger-haired people. The Weasleys, for sure - that hair would be recognizable anywhere, quite like their own.

'It is a possibility that we are looking at Harry Potter, son. Though, I had not realized he would be in the same year as you.' He seemed to consider something for a few moments before adding, 'You should try and make friends with him.'

'Of course, Father', Draco said with an unreadable smile tugging at his lips. Lucius was thinking how it was possible that his eleven year old son already had an expression he couldn't read, while the Weasley clan and an overly enthusiastic Harry Potter crossed the barrier into Platform 9 3/4. He and his wife had decided several days prior that it would be better for Draco to go the platform on his own, each considering this for different reasons. Narcissa had said that it would not be good for the boy to go there with his father, who had stood trial for being be a Death Eater, while Lucius himself just wanted the boy have a bit of independence. Draco had been too happy to finally start school to argue with any of them. Thus, with a pat on the shoulder ('Malfoys do not engage in public displays of affection!'), Draco was sent to the barrier and through.

Once there, he made a beeline for his friends, Greg Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, without a look back or around.

Harry Potter was having a good day. A very good day, indeed. That was clear to anyone whose eyes set upon him - that smile simply would not leave his face, his eyes seemed to be gleaming behind his spectacles and it was like he could not stand still.

If anyone had been watching him, they would have noticed that most his behavior had started the moment he set eyes on the Weasleys. Not just because they were wizards, just like himself (that was pretty obvious, due the trunks they were carrying which were similar to his own). But because the moment he asked for help, the mother had jumped at the chance to be there for him. Some people are simply capable of loving more than others, and some people just have enough love to give for people outside their family. It was obvious that was the case for Molly Weasley, mother of seven, and it was just what Harry needed. Abused and, if lucky, neglected, by his relatives and foster parents, with no friends to speak of, Harry Potter was ready to start a new life with new people in it on September 1st, 1991.

He gratefully accepted the help and advice from Molly, as well as the jokes and bantering from the siblings. The youngest, Ginny, was quiet and Ron seemed to not know how to act around him. But both boys were eager for friendship, a real, life-long friendship, so they tried to put awkwardness aside, boarded the train together and waved at the two remaining redheads on the platform.

She was enjoying herself. Much more than she had thought it was possible. She had talked to many other students, slightly annoying some of them with all the facts she had learned from Hogwarts: A History. Her memory was remarkable, everyone she had ever met had praised and marveled at it, so things she had read from a book that had become her favorite came easily to the front of her mind and out of her mouth. She was just in the middle of a rant about some obscure school rule, set sometime around the 1600s, when a chubby boy with a round face and teeth to rival her own opened the door to the compartment and asked about a toad.

She was looking at him with big eyes, cut short in the middle of her explanation, when someone asked the boy who he was and the kid answered with a small voice, 'Neville Longbottom'. She was on her feet in an instant.

'No, we haven't seen your toad, but I can help you find it, if you want?', she said with a hopeful smile.

'If it's not too much of a bother..', Neville replied with a hint of guilt in his voice.

She heard a relieved sigh as she was closing the door, and moved to go in one direction of the train, just like she knew where she was going.

Greg and Vincent weren't bad people. They were just kids, after all. Not the brightest of the bunch, but still fun to be around. He assumed he liked their company for two reasons: first, because they had known each other since they were infants, quite literally. Their fathers had been part of the same organization and the boys had spent lots of time at the Manor playing, while the heads of families were engaged in business.

The second reason was not as pleasant as the first. The Crabbes and the Goyles did not have Manors, or estates for that matter. The balance of their Gringotts accounts would have made Draco classify them as 'poor', and while they weren't quite at the Weasley's level, they were still quite a lot behind the Malfoys. That had made the heads of the families to look at Malfoy Sr as a leader, or at least some kind of boss. This relationship of sorts, along with the implied respect, had transferred to the children in time and had made Greg and Vincent to listen to anything Draco said, plain and simple.

He had tried to not do that today, give them orders and such. Mostly, because he had wanted to enjoy their company, but also because, as far as the most of the students on the Express were concerned, today they were equals. They were all children, about to start their magical education. But their lack of intellect and ability to form a coherent thought on their own was grating on his nerves. Badly.

He hadn't said anything for over ten minutes and so, neither had they. He was looking between Vincent who was casually picking his nose and Greg, who seemed endlessly entertained by a spring in the cushions that kept bouncing back after being pressed and then released. His patience with them was just about meet its end, when one of them (he wasn't even sure which) finally uttered a sentence.

'How about we take a walk around the train?'

Draco jumped out of his seat and was through the door without a word. He went straight towards to the back of the train. He didn't look in any of the compartments until the last carriage, where he found what he was looking for. The raven-haired boy from the train station, who looked too small and too thin to be eleven. On the seat in front of him was the youngest Weasley brother and a mass of brown, untameable curls was facing away from the door. They did not appear to be talking much, or really, at all. They were just looking awkwardly at each other, without even noticing the three people looking at them through the door's glass. He remembered them being.. chattier? Friendlier to each other? Interesting.

'A weasel and .. Potter?' one of his lackeys asked (he was about 90% sure it was Greg who spoke this time).

'Yes', he tried to drawl, but his excitement got in the way and it came out more of a squeak. 'Let's go in and say hello, shall we?'

Neville had insisted they look everywhere and ask everyone about his toad. They finally made it to Ron and Harry's compartment, about one hour after they started looking. They found Trevor and Neville had left them alone in order to put him back into his cage. That had been almost 30 minutes ago. Since then, neither of the three had said much, except for introductions and a few humdrum questions and answers. Not a single word had been uttered for the last 10 minutes or so and she was about 30 seconds away of saying something she might regret, when the door was slid open. She turned around to see a very blond and very pale boy was standing in the door frame, flanked by what she would call bookends, and her breath caught in her throat.

'Dra-', she began in a soft voice, but instantly shut her mouth and turned her head. It had been said so quiet, she was sure that no one had heard her. The blond boy considered her for a moment and then instructed the ones that were accompanying him, 'This is personal' and shut the door behind him.

Hermione had been looking down at her feet, inwardly blaming herself for the slip. She knew she would be seeing Ron and Harry on the train, and she was so excited she had almost forgotten about everyone else. She had been waiting for a reason to go look for them, when Neville had shown up, asking for help. She had almost fled to where she knew they would be and had been trying to ease them into talking since she found them. Then Draco had waltzed in and all her carefully considered ideas of starting up conversation had flown out the window. When she heard the door click shut, all her anger got redirected at Draco.

'You can't do that!'

'Do what?', confusion all over his voice.

'Send them away like that! That's not how things happened and I don't appreciate you coming in here, messing up my dream!'

'I beg your pardon, what do you mean your dream? This is my dream!'

Two even more confused and a bit loud voices were added to the conversation at the same time.

'Huh?'

'What?!'

Harry had been having a very good day. He had met the Weasleys (well, most of them), and had seated himself on the express facing Ron. Sure, they weren't talking as much as he had hoped, but he had promised himself he would make the most of this so he wasn't giving up.

When the bushy-haired witch had entered their compartment, he had been lost for words. It was too much, trying to talk to both of his now child friends. He had been scrambling for things to say when the aristocratic boy he had met at Madam Malkin's a while back, all grace and manners, had made his presence known. He'd heard a gasp and something unintelligible being said from somewhere near where he stood, and then he had dismissed his friends and closed the door.

He cared for the two Gryffindors next to him more he could ever put into words, and although he and Ron had been through some rough patches, he had always been afraid that Hermione would be the one to leave him behind. Perhaps it was because they were of different genders, and she had been the first woman or girl to show him love. Perhaps it was because she had entered their friendship just a bit later. Perhaps he would never be rid of that particular fear. He was still somewhat unfazed by the appearance of Draco (it was bound to happen, anyway) when a quick exchange of words between her and the blond boy broke him out of this reverie and made him choke out a very undignified 'Huh?'.

His mind rushed with possibilities and questions. He started looking at the only witch in there, because she was the most likely to have answers to those questions. But which question to ask first? He was contemplating just that when Ron's voice made his mind go blank for the second time in as many minutes.

Ron was pretty sure Hermione had started saying Draco's name when he had opened the door. But how could that be? After hearing them banter like they had been chums for years, his heart started racing so fast he was sure he was going to pass out. When he thought he might have control of his voice, he tried asking a question, but could only manage one word. Yet, that one word made all of them go silent.

Hermione looked first at Ron and then at Harry. She loved them dearly and they all knew they could be considered slow compared to her. She had hoped that her subconscious would have made them a tad brighter and a bit more coherent than they were in real life. This dream she was having was really not living up to the expectations, even though it must have been the longest dream she ever had. At that point she looked at Harry a bit more closely. Had she been watching a movie, she would have found that expression hilarious. A kid that was trying too hard to be taken seriously, that was copying the look of a grown up who had been looking skeptical and afraid at the same time. In this set of circumstances, though, it looked just wrong on the face of an eleven year old, who was not quite a teenager yet. Harry was looking back at her through narrowed eyes, his pupils slightly dilated and one eyebrow going into his hairline. His glasses had glided down his nose a bit and he hadn't bother to push them back up. They were still engaged in this battle of stares when Ron's reticent voice, saying one word, made them look around at the other two occupants of the room.

The four friends were looking at each other, while that one word kept ringing in all their ears. All their faces were changing expressions, so many and so fast, one would think they were practicing for a very complex and very difficult play. Confusion, happiness, guilt, love, fear, friendship, all in a matter of seconds. At last, pure, unadulterated hope was etched on all their faces. Ron cleared his throat and tried again.

'Mione?..'