Chapter 2

They still had a few hours before the rest of the school arrived an it would be time for dinner. Most of the eighth years now sat in the common room. As Harry chatted to Ron, Hermione an Neville, he saw Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy enter. They moved over to what had become the Slytherin section. There was only a small couch left, which Crabbe and Goyle sat on, Malfoy sat at their feet. The whole thing seemed slightly surreal. Harry had never thought Malfoy could look so comfortable sitting on the floor, but it seemed second nature to him to sit at his friends' feet.

Harry surreptitiously poked Hermione. "Look."

She looked over at the Slytherins, studied Malfoy for a moment, then nodded.

"So what should we do?" he asked her softly. If Hermione thought there was something wrong, there was something wrong.

"Ask Crabbe and Goyle."

"What?" Harry was flabbergasted.

"We'll ask Crabbe and Goyle." She reiterated.

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Harry stood in the corridor facing Crabbe and Goyle. He and Hermione had cornered them on their way to dinner. The other Slytherins seemed to understand without being told that their presence was not required.

"Can we help you?" Crabbe looked at them expectantly.

"Uh, yeah," Harry looked over at Hermione for help. She gave none. "We were wondering if there was something up with Malfoy."

Crabbe's eyes slid away. "Yeah, we thought you might have noticed that." He looked over at Goyle, who nodded. "We don't want this getting round, yeah? We wouldn't usually tell people, but we do owe you guys." Harry was startled, but tried to hide it. "Draco's a magical submissive, turned on his seventeenth birthday."

Harry opened his mouth to ask what the hell a magical submissive was, but Hermione put her hand on his arm. "Thank you, we won't tell anyone." She said, as if they'd explained everything.

Goyle looked at them seriously. "We'd appreciate that."

They turned and went to dinner, Harry looked at Hermione. "Gonna tell me what that was about?"

"Magical submissives are really rare magical creatures, they pledge themselves to one wizard or witch and are bound to them. It's barbaric. The submissive needs permission to eat and sleep and do all sorts of things."

"What's in it for the wizard."

Hermione looked at him disbelievingly. "You mean aside from having a personal slave? Their magic gets multiplied by a factor ten. Submissives are really powerful, despite the fact they get treated terribly by the wizarding community. No wonder Crabbe and Goyle want to keep this quiet.

"Can you imagine what would have happened if Voldemort had known about Malfoy?" Harry shuddered

Hermione shook her head. "He wouldn't have been able to claim him. To claim a submissive you have to prove that you are strong enough to claim than, but also that you can love them, care for them, provide for them and pleasure them." She was counting them off on her fingers and turned a bit pink at the last one.

"So this explains why Malfoy's been all weird?"

"Yes, submissives find it quite hard to function before they are claimed. They need to be told what to do. Without a Dominant, I guess Crabbe and Goyle are fulfilling that role."

"This is weird, I thought Malfoy told them what to do."

"Yeah, but we also thought they couldn't string a sentence together, yet clearly they can. Also, Pansy was really nice to me earlier, not one word about being a mud blood. I'd say there's plenty we don't know about the Slytherins."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and you should have seen the way they treat Malfoy. It's like he's made of glass or something. They all look at him kind of... gently."

"They probably know how precious magical submissives are." She looked around them. "We should go to dinner. We're going to miss the sorting.

Harry followed after her, still trying to comprehend that she'd called Malfoy precious.

The Sorting was the same as it always was. The Sorting Hat spoke rubbish and the first years were terrified. The new Gryffindor students stared at Harry like he was God and Harry felt like banging his head against the table for it. He wanted to be normal.

"And did you see the top that little fucker was wearing?" Ron's voice cut through his thoughts. "The pureblood ideal, stuck up tosser."

"Ron, it's a joke." Hermione said patiently.

Ron turned to her. "How is it a joke?" He sneered.

"Its a joke because 'live fast, die young' is a muggle saying, I think it's an old film title. And as for 'marry well', Malfoy's gay isn't he? I don't think that's the pureblood definition of marrying well." Hermione rolled her eyes and looked away from a floundering Ron.

"Yeah, well, he's still a prick." Ron finally managed. Hermione just looked distinctly unimpressed.

Back in their dorms that evening there was an odd sort tension, the different houses tiptoeing around each other.

"Sorry, Zabini," Harry muttered as he accidentally knocked into him.

Zabini smiled to show it was okay. Then he looked around him. "We should call each other by our first names." He announced. The other houses looked sceptical so he elaborated. "We're going to be sharing a dorm for the next year. An anyway, when Greg and Vince get married at Christmas they'll both be Goyle-Crabbe and it'll just get too complicated."

That made sense and ten other Slytherins were nodding.

"Let's go round and say our names, in case anyone doesn't know." Nott suggested, which was lucky really as Harry had no idea what his first name was. "It'll be like team-building."

Ron started to mutter about not wanting to team-build with the Slytherins, but was drowned out by Zabini snorting and asking, "What, should we say which pets we have as well."

Nott grinned. "Names should be fine."

"Cool, I'll start," Zabini responded. "I'm Blaise."

Nott went next. "Theo,"

Everyone had settled themselves on beds now for their impromptu getting-know-you session.

Goyle smiled his crooked grin around the room. "Greg,"

Crabbe also surveyed the room. "Vince,"

Greg touched Malfoy's arm gently. He looked up. "Draco, but these guys," he gestured this friends, "call me Dove. I have no idea why."

Vince laughed. "It's cause you're so pure, Dove."

Draco mock scowled at him. "Funny,"

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Harry sat in Advanced Potions early the next morning. Who the hell thought potions first thing in the morning was a good idea? Snape had yet to arrive. He hadn't died either. Apparently Avada Kedavra didn't kill vampires.

Snape entered with his usual billowing black robes. He surveyed the class dispassionately then moved to the board.

"Today you will be making a healing draft. Instructions are on the board. Vials to be handed to me at the end of the lesson." His voice was tired.

He gave the class another meaningful look, then disappeared into his office. Whispers started throughout the class. Was Snape not staying to supervise them? Why not? What was wrong with him?

Harry looked across at the Slytherins taking this class with him. It was Draco, Blaise and Greg. They were silent, not discussing what was going on wit Snape, perhaps they already knew. Draco, sitting at the next bench from him, was biting his lip worriedly.

Harry went to get his ingredients. The healing draft was quite difficult, and this year everyone had to work by themselves as their were so few of them. He chopped the Anise and Bloodroot, added them to the unicorn milk already in the potion and was about to add the dried Passion Flower stamen when pale, delicate hand caught his wrist.

"It's the ladybird wings next," Draco said with smile. "If you put the Passion Flower in now, it'll explode."

"Oh, right, thanks." Harry watched as Draco's tiny hand relinquished it's hold.

"No problem."

At the end of the lesson, Harry's healing potion was identical to Hermione's, which he supposed he had Draco to thank for.

The lessons for the rest of the day were normal. They just carried on from sixth year as if nothing had happened. As if there had been no war, no deaths. As if a quarter of their year didn't have the Dark Mark.