Thanks to everyone who's reading this and to those who have reviewed! I appreciate you all immensely. You are the reason I keep writing! Well, here's the next installment of Conquering Loneliness and I'm pretty happy with it. This chapter and the previous one are kind of like a prep-up for the next chapter, where the real action starts. Yay! Lol. Keep on reading and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW.
Disclaimer = I do not own the Harry Potter books and am writing this solely for my own and others enjoyment, not any profit. If I did own Harry Potter, I'd be a VERY happy person.
By the time Halloween came during Draco's first year at Hogwarts, there was no doubt in his mind, and he would tell you if you asked. Harry Potter was not the "Boy-Who-Lived". He was the boy who annoyed the shit out of him.
There Draco was, the first day. He had thought about it, hell, dreamed about it for weeks. Of course, he thought, he knew everything there was to know about Hogwarts. His family had been going there for generations. It was as set in stone as his pure-blood heritage, and just as certain as the fact he would be in Slytherin, like every Malfoy before him. Still, he was excited. He was jittery with anticipation of going there at last, walking the halls, learning real magic, maybe even making , like every other wizard child, had grown up knowing Harry Potter's name. It was odd. In talking with others, he came to realize that most kids' parents shared this information with them easily, happily even. Draco had never known why his parents tried to hide the books with Harry Potter's name in them, and whenever he asked about him, they grew hushed and didn't respond. Draco eventually learned to stop asking.
When he walked up to Harry Potter that day, he followed his instincts, instilled in him by his father: Ally with people who are stronger than you. This could mean physically stronger, smarter, more powerful, anyone with something you could benefit from. With Harry Potter, there was no question about it. He must have some extraordinary ability to have done what he did, and at that young. He was famous, and that appealed to Draco's instincts.
So Draco when strode into Harry Potter's compartment that day, the dim and boorish, but possibly useful Crabbe and Goyle tailing him, he was legitimately surprised when he caught sight of those who sat there. He did not know exactly what he expected to see, but certainly not the small, nervous boy he had met at Madam Malkins a few weeks before. Draco struggled to remember exactly what he and Harry Potter had talked about that day, so that he could reference the conversation when he spoke to Harry now, but when his memory came up blank, he decided to pretend it had never happened. He hadn't paid much attention to the boy at the robe shop then. He would now.
In the few seconds before he spoke, he acknowledged a Weasley boy sitting by Harry, to some distaste. His father had told him about the Weasleys. He quickly turned back to Harry, taking in his dark hair and emerald eyes, and was a bit taken aback to see the annoyance there. He could tell that Harry recognized him, but he didn't seem to be pleased to see him again. Harry's look made Draco uncomfortable, but Draco quickly turned defensive, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd been nice enough, hadn't he? Draco tried to pull off his defensiveness as overconfidence, put on his usual smirk, and said:
"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment, So it's you, is it?" Of course it was him, Draco thought, even as he asked. He could see the scar from where he was standing.
"Yes," Harry said. Draco nodded, but was irritated to see Harry eying Crabbe and Goyle. Though Draco kind of liked how they looked on either side of him, like bodyguards, he wanted Harry to pay attention to him. He introduced them, quickly, to get it over and done with, and then, with more enthusiasm, introduced himself. When the Weasley snickered, a flame went off inside him.
"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco said angrily, "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they could afford." Draco felt a tinge of satisfaction when he saw the ginger flush, but then felt a bit of regret. If Weasley was Harry Potter's friend, he didn't want to alienate him. But his desire for further retribution beat out his thought to be civil. And, Draco considered, maybe Harry Potter wasn't the Weasely's friend. Maybe they just sat together in the compartment on an off-chance. Maybe Harry didn't know any better. With this in mind, Draco decided to give a go at enlightening him.
"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," he said. Hesitating for only a second he said: "I can help you there".
Draco held out his hand, hopeful, what he thought of as a knowing smirk on his face, but this faltered when he saw the coldness in Harry's expression. Draco knew the cause was lost then, even before anything was said, and his outstretched hand dropped to his side.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said. Well, Draco thought. He felt his face go hot, and his features molded into a scowl. With as much venom as he could eject into his voice, he said slowly:
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. You hang around like riffraff like the Weasleys and that oaf Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
When Potter and Weasley both sprung up, Draco realized how low he'd just hit, and wanted to kick himself. He could forget any chance of befriending Potter now.
"Say that again," Weasley said, his face so red that Draco would have laughed if it were any other situation. Draco glanced at Harry quickly, and saw Weasley's expression reflected. Guess they are friends, he thought meekly. He retreated at the intensity of their glares, and was glad to have Crabbe and Goyle there to back him up. He had no desire to 'say that again', but there was nothing to do but go along with it now, he supposed.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" he scoffed.
"Unless you get out now," Harry retorted. The order stung, but Draco laughed, and it sounded fake to him. Bothered by his bitter, remorseful thoughts, Draco told himself to get over it already.
He wanted to leave, actually, since the situation made him uncomfortable, but he refused to follow Potter's orders. He wanted to win. With Crabbe and Goyle there, he figured could say or do anything he felt like.
"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys?" Draco forced himself to say. He looked to Crabbe and Goyle for back-up. And, inspired by their nods of approval, he added:
"We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Of course I had to say something stupid, Draco thought directly afterwards, but the greedy oafs had already started reaching for the pile of sweets on the compartment seat. Before Draco could say a word to stop them, Weasley practically leapt towards Goyle. Draco noticed that Harry made no attempt to hold him back. Then, before they even made contact, all hell broke loose: that bloody rat bit Goyle. Everyone was shouting and the rat was whirling round and round on the lout's fat finger. When it finally flew off, slamming against the window, Draco rushed out of the compartment without a look back, and he wasn't surprised to see that Crabbe and Goyle had followed him.
And so it began. The years undoubtedly came and went. The naive first years grew slowly. They learned; they got older and more mature. And as sure as anything was throughout the years, Draco and Harry loathed each other. The incident on the train was only the beginning to a seemingly endless array of insults, hexes, tricks, and fights. On the sidelines, Draco watched as Harry and Weasley became like brothers, the mudblood Granger like his sister, and the half-giant Hagrid a beloved friend. Draco also noticed himself change, and he was pleased. Gone was the poor, helpless nine-year-old of his past, and ashamed of himself and frightened of the world, so Draco told himself. He had power now. People looked up to him, and did what he said. He walked with confidence. He would be somebody. And his father would be proud.
But sometimes, when he saw Harry Potter, he didn't feel as sure. Potter, Weasley, Granger, and there were others in the group sometimes too… they had something, and it wasn't anything Draco's father could buy and it wasn't anything he could force someone in to: They laughed together. They linked arms and threw arms across each other's shoulders. They let someone borrow a jumper on a cool day, and they shared Butterbeer and firewhiskey snuck in from Hogsmeade. They helped each other study. They defended each other, and they squeezed the others' hands when they were in a tough place. They let the others see them cry, and they comforted the one crying. Money and a famous name could get you a lot of things, but they couldn't get Draco that.
And of course, there was that one issue that could zap Draco's sureness in an instant: his sexuality. He was sure of it by then, but he tried not to think about it often, and he certainly could never tell anyone. Draco knew that. But since he couldn't tell, he had to hide it, which turned out to be exceedingly difficult. It felt like there was forever a huge, suffocating weight on his chest, choking him. But there was nothing to do but hold his breath, and wait.
Then, with the summer behind them… the 6th year of Draco and Harry's Hogwarts career started, and everything was about to change.
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