The train ride was rickety. Draco was in a compartment with three boys; Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zambini. All three were the sons of his father's friends. Zambini seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, but the preceding two seemed a bit thick. Well, a bit was an understatement. They seemed absolutely moronic. He doubted either one even knew how to read. He decided to make these two his cronies. If anything, they will be like body guards. He figured he shouldn't have a hard time doing this, since his father was such a powerful man. His father had told him to become allies with the dumber and weaker, and have them look up to you. Gaining power from the ground up.
At this he remembered the boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He remembered how he tried making friends with him, but failed. He remembered the boy's impoverished looks. He tried befriending him without thinking of his father's wishes. He wanted to befriend the boy, disheveled, messy haired, and dressed in rags, for the soul reason of having a true friend. Besides, since Draco first saw him he couldn't help shaking an odd, but pleasant feeling he got when thinking of him. Something attracted Draco to this boy, but he didn't understand the attraction. Before he could delve into the matter more, the compartment door opened. The four looked up to see a bushy-haired girl with bucked teeth standing in the door way. She was already wearing her robes, which Draco found to be amusing.
"Excuse me, but has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one." her voice sounded bossy and rather annoying. She seemed like a know it all. Blaise shook his head, going back to his reading, Goyle and Crabbe looked at her like they didn't understand what she was saying. They are a lot like Neanderthals, Draco noted. Draco was the only one to really acknowledge the girl. "No, but we will tell you if we have."
"Thanks," the girl said. "I'm Hermione Granger. What's your name?" Granger. Surely not a wizard name. She must be a muggle born, or a mudblood as his father called them.
"Draco Malfoy." Draco replied curtly. His father told him never to associate with Mudbloods.
"Nice to meet you. I'm glad I finally get to meet an old Wizard family! I've read all about the Malfoys, Blacks, and with other Wizarding families." The girl was talking fast. Clearly excited. Draco saw Blaise roll his eyes. Malfoy, despite feeling sorry for the girl, knew he could not show her a kindness, or his father would find out.
"Yes, the Malfoys are the wealthiest wizarding family alive. No need to ask if you are a pureblood, with that last name."
The girl frowned for only a second before changing the subject. "Do you know what house you will be in? I hope I'm in Gryffindor." This didn't sound like the first time she had this conversation today. Draco decided to impress his new friends, show his power, and have a little fun.
"Please. You seem like a know it all muggle born with no social skills, therefore you will probably be a Hufflepuff, I bet you 'read all about' how lame they are. We, on the other hand, are clearly going to be Slytherins, given our pure lineage. So run along and be a good little muggle born." With this, his three companions laughed. He though his insults sounded lame, cliché, and outright mean. This girl seemed like she could have been a nice friend. But none-the-less, his father reminded him plenty of times that he had a reputation to uphold.
"Remember, Draco," Lucius said with a stern look in his eyes, "while gaining the loyalty of those weaker than you, mudbloods and blood traitors are nothing to you, so their loyalty will only bring filth to the purebloods."
The girl looked hurt, as if she was just slapped in the face, but quickly straightened her posture as her face went cold and stern. "For your information, I believe I will be in Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff. You might also like to know that while my parents might be dentists, that doesn't make me any less of a witch than you are a wizard. Third of all, I am not going to be shooed off by a bunch of idiots who can't even insult someone properly." She turned away in a huff. Draco was just about to wonder what a dentist was when she muttered something just audible enough to reach his ears. "Harry Potter and that Ron kid were nicer than these idiots."
"Wait! Muggle born! What did you just say?" Draco stood up and ran to the compartment door.
The girl, who was already a compartment down, turned around, a twisted smile on her face. "Oh, now you want to talk to me. Well, I guess telling me would make me a know it all." She seemed to be enjoying this little game. Draco was in no mood for playing. He drew out his wand. He may have not known any real spells, but the girl didn't know that, and as long as she didn't call his bluff he was fine. The girl backed up a step, staring wide eyed at the wand. She was petrified.
"Don't get smart with me, muggle born." Draco warned. He would have used her name, but he couldn't pronounce it. Stupid muggles, he thought, why can't they give their children normal names?
The girl swallowed and looked up at him before taking a breath and speaking. "Fine. If you must know, he's at the last compartment on the right." Draco lowered his wand; she didn't call the bluff and gave him the information he needed. The girl eyed him for a few seconds, as if seeing if he would raise it again, before running off.
Screw what his father said about the ground up! If he could befriend the golden boy-who-lived, then he could gain the loyalty of anybody in the school! He turned to Crabbe and Goyle, and straightened up, trying to look as leader-like as possible. "Come, you two," Draco said, with a voice that would have made his father proud, a mischievous smile spreading slowly across his face, "I think it's about time we pay the boy-who-lived a little visit."
Walking down the corridor, Draco's could hear his heart beat fast in his chest. He could feel his pulse in his temples, and a feeling of apprehension filled his body. He was going to meet the Golden boy of the wizard world and extend his hand of friendship. Rumors had it that he was in Diagon Alley on the 31 of July. Draco remembered feeling disappointed when he heard the news. He had been in Diagon Alley all day and never saw him. Thoughts filled his head about the moment ahead where he would meet the Golden Boy and extend a hand of friendship.
He pictured the scenario where would walk in the compartment, introduce himself, and state that he would be a good person to help him figure out the politics of the world he was so new to, then extend his hand out to the boy, who would be so grateful that he would grab it and they would firmly shake hands. Five compartments to go, Draco thought, quickening his pace. Four compartments... Three compartments... Two compartments. Here it is. Draco turned to the right and dropped his jaw.
He looked behind him to make sure there was no mistake. The other compartment had three giggling girls, no boys. He swallowed hard before turning to face the boy he met at Madam Malkins robe shop, and a ginger kid. The black haired boy looked the same, wearing far-too-large clothes, broken glasses, and disheveled hair. The boy was having a deep conversation with a boy who looked no better, wearing what looked like a hand-me-down hand-me-down sweater with dirt on his face. Draco remembered his father talking about a blood traitor family called the Weasley's, stating they were a family of red heads with freckles and more children then they had money. The boy had red hair, freckles, and the three time hand-me-downs gave one the impression of poverty, so he had to be a Weasley. Father would kill me if I associated with this kid. Nonetheless, the Weasley was in the compartment with Potter, and his goal was imminent. Taking a deep, steady breath, he opened the door.
"Chudley Cannons is by far the best-" The red head stopped speaking and both looked at the door. Draco's eyes met Harry's. Draco hadn't noticed exactly how stunningly green Harry's eyes were that day. And his black, messy hair just covered the top of a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Realizing he was staring, he started to speak.
*"Is it true? They're saying all down the compartment that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, isn't it?"
"Yes," Harry replied. He was distracted by something behind Draco. That's when Draco remembered the two idiots behind him.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco said, trying to sound nonchalant and careless, "and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy" He heard a snigger and cough. He snapped his head to the red haired boy. This boy, this filthy, penniless boy, was picking on his name? Draco was insulted. "You think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children then they can afford." the embarrassed and hurt look on the Weasley's face was bittersweet. He hated being mean, but he knew he had to in order to have the power his father wanted him to have, and he wanted to make the kid pay for laughing at his name. He quickly turned back to Potter, finding this the perfect opportunity to make his move.
"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sorts. I can help you there." With that he extended his hand. Potter just stood there, looking at his hand for what seemed like an eternity. He felt like an idiot standing there with his arm out, extending friendship to someone who was just staring. It seemed like ages before the boy spoke.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." His voice was a cool mixture of anger and benevolence. Draco felt like an idiot. He put his hand down to his side, as he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. How dare he make a fool of me! How dare he reject my friendship! Does he know who he is dealing with!
Draco took a breath and spoke slowly, but with fire in each word. "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 out with riffraff like the Weasley's and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." Draco didn't know why he brought the boy's parents up, but he did, and didn't feel like apologizing.
Both boys stood up, the Weasley's face going redder than his hair. "Say that again," he sneered.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco sneered back. He was feeling courageous with his two body guards. He spotted the large pile of candy and food in the compartment as Potter threatened them. "Unless you get out now." Please. Two against one with the odds in his favor. It was Draco's turn to retaliate.
"Oh, but we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Draco realized he sounded five, not eleven. Goyle went to go reach for candy as a rat jumped out from the pile and bit him.*
Draco stared at the invitation, knowing the memory of that fated first train ride affected his relationship with Harry forever. It was at that moment, when Harry refused his hand in friendship that Malfoy vowed to make his life a living Hell. If I couldn't have him as a friend, I would have him as an enemy.
A/N: all between the two asterisks (*) is dialogue from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling, rewritten in the view of Malfoy by me.