One.

Little Things.

()()()

Neville entered the dusty wand shop, and when he did, a little bell tinkled merrily. Ollivander, a grey, wrinkled, slightly raisin-like wizard, peeked out from behind a tottering pile of thin boxes.

"Neville Longbottom," he said, sounding slightly amazed. "I was wondering when I'd see you here."

His gran spoke for him, like she always did. "He's happy to see you too. Now, he needs a wand. What would you recommend?"

"I can talk for myself," Neville muttered.

"I'm sure you can, dear," she smiled and patted him on the shoulder. He scowled.

Ollivander watched all of this with his mouth hanging slightly open. He realized what he was doing, closed it with a snap, and disappeared behind a shelf piled with wand boxes. "A wand, a wand," he whispered. "A wand for Neville Longbottom."

He seemed unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"How about this?" he asked, handing Neville a slender, dark wand. "Black Walnut. Dragon heartstring. Nine inches."

Neville waved it. Something broke loudly in the back of the shop.

Ollivander snatched the wand away with a very worried expression on his face. "Umm… no, no, let's not use that one. That poor candlestick… Anyway. How about this one?" He handed Neville another wand. "Cedar. Unicorn hair. Eight inches." He waited nervously, with his hands clasped together.

Neville waved it. One of Ollivander's shoelaces promptly snapped, flew into the air, hit the ceiling, and fell back down right onto Ollivander's head.

"No, I don't suppose that would be a good choice either," Ollivander muttered, pulling the shoelace out of his hair and tossing it into one of the shelves, which made several boxes fall to the floor.

Neville's gran gave an impatient snort.

Ollivander disappeared behind another towering stack of wands. Behind it, Neville could just see the top of his gray hair. He emerged with a strange look on his face, and handed Neville another wand.

"Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather," he said, watching Neville very closely.

Neville waved the wand.

A faint pink ribbon of light circled up into the air. When it disappeared, the ceiling was still striped an obnoxious shade of pink. The wand felt warm in Neville's hand.

"Curious, very curious," Ollivander whispered. "You see Neville, this wand shares the same core as another. The one that gave you that scar."

Neville was suddenly hyper-aware of his forehead. Ollivander's eyes wandered to the scar and back to his eyes. Wordlessly, he gave Neville the box.

()()()

"BOY!" Vernon shouted. "SHE'LL BE HERE IN SEVEN SECONDS!"

Harry rolled his eyes, stuffing handfuls of socks into his suitcase. "Just a second, I'm almost done packing!" He closed the suitcase, then realized he had forgotten toothpaste.

Mrs. Figg apparated into the living room. He could hear it from all the way upstairs in his room, which was full of Dudley's dusty, broken toys. He sneezed.

"BOYYY!" Vernon roared. The only way he knew to communicate was by shouting, as he was unable to produce complex sentences. Aunt Petunia rapped on his door. Harry wished he knew how to hex people properly, aside from that time he had accidentally given Dudley a pig's tail last Thanksgiving. He had some wonderful ideas of what he would do.

"Coming!" he shouted at the door. He heard Aunt Petunia's annoyed breathing from behind the door, which she knocked on again. He grabbed any pair of shoes that he could find and stuffed them into his suitcase. Then he flung the door open, "accidentally" hitting his aunt in the face, and ran past her down the stairs, just in time to avoid her furious swipe at his head.

"I'm here, Mrs. Figg!" he missed the last step in his hurry, and ended up sprawled on the living room floor. Vernon slapped his hand against his face. Harry glared at him, got up, grudgingly allowed Mrs. Figg to hug him, and then opened the door with an evil glance at Dudley, who tried to hide behind Aunt Petunia. "See you next summer!" he said, gleefully. Hexing Dudley was bound to be fun.

Harry slammed the door shut behind him and Mrs. Figg, and they climbed into Mrs. Figg's little blue car and to King's Cross. The car smelled like cats. Harry sneezed again.

"I've got your spell books, I think. And some of your money from Gringotts," Mrs. Figg said, in her wavering old-lady voice. "And your wand, of course. I got you a nice one. Willow, I think it was? Dragon heartstring. Nine inches, or some such."

"Thanks," Harry said. "Did you get me a…"

"I got you a toad," Mrs. Figg said, beaming. Harry's heart sank dramatically. "They had some rather nice ones. I think this one's name was Trevor. He's in the backseat. I would have gotten you a cat, but these were on sale!"

A toad. Mrs. Figg, of all people, should know not to get him a toad! He should have told her he wanted an owl. Harry sighed, found the box labeled Trevor strapped into the backseat, and opened it to find an extremely fat, averagely green toad who croaked in his face.

Harry put the lid back on the box, groaning. This was going to be a very long year.

Mrs. Figg was still beaming. "Ah, here we are. King's Cross. You know how to get to the platform, don't you? You walk through the…"

"Yes, I know," Harry said, jumping out of the car and piling all of his things onto the trolley. He waved goodbye to Mrs. Figg and headed for the barrier. On the way he passed a family of redheads all pushing trolleys. He heard someone shout, "FRED FERDINAND WEASLEY!" and that vaguely reminded him of Uncle Vernon. He smiled at them, and then ran through the barrier to the platform.

He choked on the smoke that billowed into his face. That probably would have been very embarrassing, if anyone was looking at him. But everyone was gathered in a tight group, that for some reason seemed to be making bright flashes of light…

Oh, he was stupid. Cameras. And that meant… Could it be Neville Longbottom? He was the same age as Harry, wasn't he?

Harry cautiously approached the group, trying to see over the heads of people, jumping up and down and scowling when he still couldn't see. Finally, he gave up and walked onto the train. He would get to see Neville later. They were going to be in the same year, after all. But he couldn't help wanting to see the scar…

All of the compartments at the front of the train were full of chattering students, so Harry went to the back. Ah, finally, peace and quiet. After ten years of shouting Vernons, horse-faced Petunias, and squealing piggy Dudleys. It was nice to know that they finally wouldn't be here. And soon, he would be at Hogwarts! He had been obsessing over it for the whole summer, and now he was on the Hogwarts Express, just hours away.

He found an empty compartment and settled down for a nice, peaceful, train ride with just himself and his stupid, fat toad.

But suddenly a hand was thrust in front of his face.

Harry's eyes traced along the hand to the arm and then to the face of a very pale, blonde-haired boy.

"Yes?" he asked, pushing Trevor's box out of the boy's line of sight, and pushing his broken glasses to the top of his nose.

The boy took a deep breath with the air of someone pretending not to be taking a deep breath, and said, "Hello. I'm Draco Malfoy." He sneered, and then seemed to realize that he was sneering and tried not to but failed and ended up with a sort of a grimace.

Harry smiled at the battle going on in the boy's face. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter," he said. He stood, and shook his hand. "You can sit here if you want," he offered.

Draco's eyes widened, and then he tried to narrow them back into slits but they wouldn't, and all of a sudden he looked extremely insane. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Draco asked, haughtily, and sauntered into the compartment. He used some levitation spell to carry all of his things with him, and Harry saw with a sinking heart that he had a beautiful dark brown owl instead of a toad.

"Was that Longbottom? Neville Longbottom, I mean?" Harry asked, still slightly in awe of having been so close to the boy who lived.

"Course it was," Draco sneered easily this time, and sat down across from Harry. "Who else could attract so much attention simply for being there?"

Harry thought that there might be a hidden meaning concealed in that sentence, but he couldn't figure it out. "I wish I got to see him," he said. "And… you know, the scar."

And just like that, the train started moving.

"I like your owl," Harry said wistfully, admiring the owl's beautiful, glossy feathers. She puffed up her chest when she noticed he was watching, and raised her beak in the air.

"Her name's Persephone," Draco said, tapping her on the beak. "A gift from my father."

"I've got a toad," Harry confessed.

"Really?" Draco's eyes widened, then he laughed, and then he sneered again.

"Yeah. Someone bought him for me, and didn't know that I wanted an owl."

"Can I see?" Draco asked, smirking.

Harry grimaced and opened the box labeled Trevor.

The toad wasn't there.

Draco looked confused, and asked, "Where did it…?" But Harry was already searching around the compartment, looking in between cushions and under the seats. Trevor was definitely not there.

"Oh god," he muttered. "Mrs. Figg will kill me."

He ran past Draco (who was still looking into the box) and into the hallway, stuck his head into every compartment, and asked, "Has anyone seen a toad?" One pair of redheaded twins shrugged and held up a chocolate frog. Most people just ignored him, or shook their heads, annoyed. But finally he met a pair of students in the middle of the hallway, and one of them was holding a fat toad. They both had very irritated looks on their faces. He thanked them, extremely embarrassed. Trevor croaked loudly when Harry grabbed him. It sounded like he thought he was going to die.

"Sorry," he said. "Stupid thing ran away."

"It's all right," said a girl with very bushy hair, and very large front teeth. "Isn't it, Ron?"

"Yeah, Hermione." Ron muttered. "I totally wanted to spend this train ride looking for the owner of a really fat toad. Who even has a toad, anyway? Why would you buy one?"

The girl elbowed him in his side.

Harry thanked them again, hurried back to his compartment, and stuffed Trevor tightly back into his box. Draco sealed it with a spell. Persephone looked extremely pompous as she strutted around her cage. Harry was sure he saw her glare at Trevor's box with those big yellow eyes.

Draco spent a few moments looking out the window. He looked like he was deep in thought, so Harry pulled out one of his school books and started reading.

An Introduction to Potions.

Potions, the art of brewing ingredients to produce liquids of great and varied power, has been in existence for millenia. The first potion was invented by ancient wizards, probably around 350 b.c., when dragon teeth were invented by ancient wizards, probably around 350 b.c., when ancient wizards were invented by dragon teeth, probably around 350 b.c.

Harry closed the book, when he realized that he had read the same sentence three times. Sort of.

A girl, who sort of looked like a pug, burst into the compartment without asking and sat next to Draco, so close that their arms brushed together. She had a large nose and big black eyes, with shiny scarlet hair cropped short and dancing around her face. "Hello," she said to Harry. "I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Hi," Harry said, awkwardly. "I'm Harry Potter."

That was the extent of their introduction. Harry looked back down at his book, but didn't have any more luck. Dragon teeth are an important ingredient in most Potions, which are an important ingredients in Potions, which are an important ingredients in… oh, fuck it. Harry settled for staring blankly at the page and pretending to read. His new acquaintances were more interesting, anyway.

Draco was smiling at Pansy. "Hey Pans," he said. "I thought you said your father was going to fly you to Hogwarts on his invisible broom because trains were for 'crude Mudbloods'?"

Harry jerked his head up at the word. Ever since a young age, Mrs. Figg had reminded him never to say that word. He opened his mouth to tell them off.

Pansy sighed. "Oh, dearest Draco, they are, but I'm afraid I'll just have to suffer," she cried, putting her hand to her forehead dramatically.

Draco smirked. "Honestly, I'm not sure how Muggleborns can endure this. With the plush cushions and the trolley sweets and the beautiful view, it's just awful. We privileged Pureblood children have to go through so much."

This made Pansy burst out laughing.

Harry was confused. He realized that his mouth was still open, so he snapped it shut.

"But, honestly Pansy, how'd you get out of it?" Draco asked, sounding curious.

Pansy flipped her red hair, looking smug. "I snuck out. Draco, I took the Knight bus to King's Cross. I told them my name was Ginny Weasley!" she said, with a high-pitched laugh. "When he finds out, I'll just say that I forgot. I pretend to forget things a lot. It works to my advantage."

Draco looked impressed. "Honestly, I'm surprised my father let me ride in a train with a bunch of filthy mudbloods," he scrunched up his face when he said it, and seemed like he was trying to sound posh and obnoxious.

Pansy giggled.

Harry was more confused than ever.

Draco sighed. "He was probably too busy licking his arse to remember that he had a son!"

Pansy burst out laughing. She leaned on Draco, throwing her arms around him and laughing into his shoulder.

Harry was even more confused.

"Um…" he tried, trying to catch their attention.

They both turned and looked at him, looking ridiculous with their arms flung around each other. Then they both started to laugh again, loudly. Pansy gasped out something in the midst of her laughter, something like, "He's… so… confused, Draco!" which only made both of them laugh harder. They sounded like a group of hyenas.

Harry glared at them, crossing his arms and waiting for their laughter to fizzle out so that they could explain themselves. This was weird, and he didn't like people laughing about some joke that he didn't get.

Finally, they stopped laughing and looked at him expectantly.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked.

They looked at each other.

And burst out laughing again.

"Oh... my god…" Pansy gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.

"My stomach hurts," Draco whined, which made Pansy start laughing again.

"A-hem," Harry snapped. "Is anyone going to tell me what's so funny?

"Oh god, Draco. Where'd you find him?" Pansy choked out in between bubbles of laughter. "He's hilarious!" she clapped her hands together, leaning forward to laugh into her knees. Draco lost it again, covering his face with his hands and leaning his head back against the cushion, but his laughter was barely muffled. They sounded like idiots.

Harry scowled at them.

"Oh, do you think he thinks we're serious? Does he understand sarcasm?" Pansy asked, still giggling.

Draco frowned to Harry. "Come on Pans, don't be mean. It might not make sense to someone who hasn't been hearing the same joke repeated for five years."

"We do make this joke a lot, don't we?" Pansy asked. "It gets funnier every time, I swear," she wiped at her eyes again, but had apparently calmed down enough to pull a cockroach cluster out of her pocket and take a bite. "Sorry, Harry. It's a Pureblood Slytherin brat thing. You might not get it."

Draco rolled his eyes at her.

"Anyway," Pansy said, around a large wing she was currently chewing. "What house do you think you'll get, Harry?" she had moved away from Draco, so now their arms were only brushing again, which made Harry feel moderately better. And even though they evidently had some very confusing inside jokes, and would possibly be Slytherins, Harry still felt like it would be a good idea to try and become friends with them. After all, he knew absolutely no one at Hogwarts. He didn't want to be friendless. The thought of being completely alone scared him.

And they seemed nice enough.

"I don't know," he said. "I'll just get whatever the Hat sorts me into, I guess."

A while ago, he told Mrs. Figg that when he was sorted, he would ask for anything but Slytherin. But she told him that the Sorting Hat always knew best. He should just let it sort him. So that was what he would do.

"Yes, that's all well and good, but what do you think you'll get? Are you smart? Are you nice? Are you brave? Are you a privileged arsehole?" Draco asked, which made Pansy start to giggle crazily.

Harry hesitated, not sure what to say. "I guess I'm a bit of… the first three," he said.

Draco nodded. "I think you'll be a Gryffindor. Sometimes you can just tell with people," he said, before stealing a cockroach cluster from Pansy's pocket. She squealed and slapped his hand, but he popped it into his mouth and grinned at her. "Pansy here, she's a Hufflepuff at heart," he said, causing another indignant squeal from Pansy. "She'll ask for Slytherin, but she should really be sleeping by the kitchens," he said, smirking evilly at her.

She rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm

Harry watched them as they joked back and forth, slightly enviously, without speaking. Just pretending to read his book. He felt something sticking in his throat, something making his eyes water. He wished that they would talk to him. He wished that he understood their jokes.

He saw Draco whisper something in Pansy's ear, saw her nod, looking at him. And then Draco stood up, wobbling slightly in the moving train, and cross the compartment to sit by Harry. "She was getting a bit sweaty," he whispered to Harry. Harry knew that he was lying, so he smiled gratefully at Draco.

The train rocked back and forth, lulling Harry slowly to sleep. His book fell to his lap. He head was resting on the back of the seat, and dangerously close to falling onto Draco's shoulder. Harry felt warm all over, and everything faded away into sleep.

He heard a noise which jerked him abruptly awake. He blushed when he realized that his head had indeed fallen onto Draco's shoulder, and he moved it away quickly. He yawned. And then he realized that the noise had been the door opening, and that Neville Longbottom was standing in their compartment.

Draco was sitting rigid beside him, and when Harry looked he saw a sneer fixed onto Draco's face. All traces of laughter were gone. How did he do that? Harry wondered. It was uncanny. He looked like a different person. A mean, hateable person. Pansy was sneering at Longbottom too, and she looked even more pug-like than before. Were all Slytherins like that? Could they all do this? And why did Draco and Pansy seem to dislike Longbottom?

"Sorry to bother you," Longbottom said, flashing a smile. "Would any of you like my autograph?" he said with a smirk, sounding very pompous and puffing out his chest.

Harry heard laughter from behind Neville that eventually turned into coughs and then someone choking loudly.

"Ron!" someone snapped in a high-pitched, girly voice. "Shut up!"

"You shut up!" Ron shouted. "You're being louder."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Both of you shut up! You've ruined it."

The red-haired boy and the girl with bushy hair both peeked through the door on either side of Neville's plump face. "Oh," Ron said.

"What do you want, Weasley." Draco said. He said "Weasley" like it was synonymous with 'slug.'

Neville pointed at his scar. "You sure you don't want one? I could even write a lovely little note for you. And a heart for you, Malfoy," he said with a smirk.

Harry couldn't help staring at the scar. It was shaped exactly like a lightning bolt, red and hot against his forehead. Neville caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. Harry quickly looked away.

"Why don't you give an autograph to Weasley?" Draco asked, looking at his nails. (Which were gorgeous) "He could buy a sandwich with that, which is probably more than he's eaten in a while."

Ron looked like he was thinking hard about something to say. "You know what, Malfoy?" he said, raising his fists.

"What?" Draco asked, smirking. The smirk looked much better on his face than it did on Longbottom's.

Ron glared at him, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and disappeared with a twist of his big orange head. Neville followed. Draco chuckled.

The bushy haired girl stared at Harry for a split second longer, and Harry thought he saw her eyes dart to his forehead.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Then she disappeared.

And the train stopped.

()()()

"We're here!" Pansy sang, jumping up and out of the compartment. Then she stuck her head back in. "See ya later, boys!" Harry heard her running down the hallway, until her footsteps mingled with the general noise of the train. The compartment felt empty without her bursts of laughter and her bright red hair.

Harry barely knew her, but he missed her already.

Harry and Draco gathered all of their things, and then filed slowly off the train with the rest of the students. Harry with his toad and Draco with Persephone. The train was crowded and hot, and Harry found himself squeezing awkwardly around people, much too close for comfort. He was pressed up close to Draco at one point, their faces only inches apart. It caused a strange fluttering in his chest.

Harry felt eyes on him. Longbottom was staring. Harry frowned at him, and Longbottom looked away, and said something to Weasley and the bushy-haired girl, who were talking to him. The girl was looking at Harry again, with a strange expression in her eyes. Harry knew that he should feel annoyed at them. They had been very irritating on the train, after all, and Draco was glaring daggers at them. But as much as he tried to summon up some anger, it wasn't there. He settled for simply ignoring them.

"Firs' years!"

A giant man with a huge beard was waving his arms up and down. "Firs' years!" Draco sighed, and he and Harry went over to stand by him

"The gamekeeper," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, which gave him the chills. Harry smiled at him, grateful. He had absolutely no idea who any of these people were, so some information was definitely helpful.

"Neville!" the gamekeeper called warmly over the sea of people. "Good to see yeh!"

Longbottom, Weasley, and the girl came over and stood by him. Weasley glared at Harry and Draco, and Draco glared back.

Pansy appeared with a huge smile on her face. "Are you excited?" she asked Harry. "I'm excited. I'm so excited," she said, bouncing up and down on her feet. She continued to talk, babbling about how excited she was for Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Care of Magical Creatures. Harry was still taking everything in.

In the distance he could see the castle, majestic against the mirror of the lake, tall with spires twisting up into the sky. His heart fluttered again, his stomach felt like it was going to explode. Harry bounced up and down on his feet to expel some of his nervousness, but it didn't help much.

He was at Hogwarts.

"Firs' years, with me!" the giant gamekeeper shouted, and then they were following him to where a fleet of tiny rowboats were tied to the shore, and Hogwarts loomed in the distance. Harry stared around at all of the unfamiliar faces around him, all looking equally scared, and all chattering wildly.

"Can you believe we're actually…"

"Oh my GOD I'm so nervous!"

"Ew. I hate water."

Harry, Draco, and Pansy got into a boat together. It was a very tight space, and Harry was acutely aware of Draco's knee, which was touching his. Pansy and Draco were sitting side by side, their bodies pressed up against each other, so a simple knee touching a knee didn't mean much. But it still felt like a lot.

The oars started churning, and Hogwarts got closer, and suddenly no one spoke, and everyone just stared. It was huge, and dark, and shadowy, and the way it perched on the edge of the cliff as if it was waiting to eat you… But it also seemed familiar. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he had been here before. He had seen it in pictures. That was probably it. The cliffs loomed closer, tall and sharp like knives. And then they had reached the shore. Everything was moving so fast.

A small lady with a stiff bun and a serious face introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, and she led them into a room where they would wait to be sorted.

Pansy pulled a Slytherin pin out of her pocket and pinned it to her shirt.

"Confident, aren't you?" Draco asked.

Pansy just smirked. "Could you imagine me in Gryffindor?" she asked.

After about twenty minutes of sorting, during which Harry attempted to read his Potions book and failed miserably, it was Longbottom's turn. Harry could hear the entire Great Hall hold its breath, and he found that he was holding his too.

The Sorting Hat thought for a long time. Longer than it had taken to sort anyone else, in fact. Then, finally, the Hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Longbottom went to join the bushy-haired girl (who Harry had learned, was named Granger), who was clapping rather unenthusiastically. The rest of the great hall was in an uproar.

Draco ended up in Slytherin. Pansy did as well. And then it was Harry's turn…

"Ah. An easy one." The Sorting Hat said. "Not very smart, I can see. Ravenclaw's out of the question. But you're definitely not suited for Hufflepuff. And I don't see any Slytherin in you. Better be…"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat bellowed.

Harry glanced at Draco and Pansy. They clapped for him, but Harry saw that neither of them would quite meet his eyes. Suddenly (and possibly irrationally), Harry wished that he had asked to be in Slytherin.

Weasley was in Gryffindor too. He immediately sat by Granger and Longbottom, and Harry made sure to sit far away from the three of them. He introduced himself to several other people, but no one seemed to want to talk to him. They were all too busy catching up with old friends, and no one seemed to want to talk to another average Gryffindor first-year. At least, none that weren't Longbottom, who was surrounded by ogling girls. Harry ended up listening in to the redheaded twins' conversation about vomit-flavored beans, and trying to make sense of the strange pang of loneliness in his chest.

Well, at least the food was good, he thought as he absent-mindedly chewed on a chicken leg. But it wasn't as good when eating alone. He felt so small in the huge Great Hall full of people but no one to talk to.

Dumbledore gave an announcement about third floor corridors and forbidden forests, and then Harry found himself following the rest of the Gryffindors to the dormitory. He looked behind him to try and catch Draco's eye, but the Slytherin was gone.

Harry definitely didn't feel much Gryffindor spirit as he sat in the corner and was ignored by all the others. A few even glared at him, people that he hadn't even talked to. And then there was Longbottom, the center of everyone's attention, surrounded by adoring girls, swooning over his pudgy face. He wasn't attractive. At least, Harry didn't think he was. They were only surrounding him because he was famous.. But then again, they were still surrounding him. He would never eat alone.

And then Granger tapped him on the shoulder.

Harry realized that he had been brooding. He should have been a Slytherin. God, he should have asked the Hat to put him there. Screw whatever Mrs. Figg had told him. He wished he had a time-turner. He would rather be anywhere than here, and rather have anyone standing in front of him than Granger. She was staring at him with big, ridiculous, sad eyes, and twisting a strand of already bushy, curly hair around her finger.

"Yes?" he asked, with distaste, not bothering to look up from his book. It wasn't her fault, but anyone associated with Ron Weasley was generally dislikable in Harry's mind.

And why did he hate Ron Weasley?

Because Draco did, of course.

That made Harry angrier for some reason.

She looked taken aback by his face, so Harry tried to erase some of the disgust from his features. Now that he thought about it, it was probably a good idea to be nice her. She hadn't been mean to him, not really. He might as well have some friends that weren't Slytherins.

"Um," she said.

"Yes?" Harry asked again, getting slightly annoyed again. Was that all she had to say?

She ran her fingers through her bushy hair. "I don't know why but…" she bit her lip. "Well, can I sit by you?"

Harry almost said yes, immediately. He wanted someone to talk to. But he raised his eyebrows, instead. Don't know why? Don't know why what? Because she feels bad for me? Or is this another bloody stupid prank?

"Why?" Harry asked, with an accidental edge to his voice. He didn't trust her motivations, but there was no sense in pushing her away if she really was being genuine.

She stared at her feet. "Because you seem lonely," she said, quietly.

Well, she isn't wrong.

Harry was sorry for hating her. After all, she only wanted to be friends. So what if she had been talking to Ron? It was still the first day. That didn't mean anything.

"I'm Harry," he said, and smiled.

He could see her shoulders relax and a smile bubble over her face. "I'm Hermione. Nice to meet you," she said. "What do you think?" she gestured at the crowded common room. "Of Hogwarts, I mean. It's a bit overwhelming, I think. I mean… the pictures talk? And the food appears out of nowhere… and there are ghosts!"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's a lot to take in."

Hermione smiled. "Anyway," she said, and bit her lip again, looking worried. "What I really wanted to said is: I'm sorry that everyone is avoiding you. I think…" she broke off.

Harry smiled. "It's okay."

"No, it's really not. I just know it's because you were talking to the Slytherins, and it's so awful that anyone would avoid you just because of that," she twiddled her thumbs. "You're not supposed to be ignored."

Harry thought that was a strange way to say it, but he thanked her anyway.

"Well," she said, and her face brightened. "Classes tomorrow! See you then!"

Harry watched her skip away up the stairs.

()()()

"Good morning, Draaaaco!" Pansy sang, swinging the door open with a bang and grinning sadistically down at him. Luckily, all of Draco's roommates had already left for breakfast, but Draco still nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her.

Draco couldn't even form his face into a proper sneer, because he was so mortified. He sat up, clutching the covers around him like an embarrassed girl. "What are you doing, Pansy? You're not supposed to be in here! And I'm… in my pajamas!" he held out a pajama-covered arm to demonstrate.

Pansy's smile got even bigger. "I know!" she cried, clapping her hands together as if it was celebration. "Isn't it wonderful? And, Draco, seriously? What are those… Peach? Peach pajamas? Honestly!"

Draco glared at her.

"Well, see ya later! I just wanted to tell you that it's time for breakfast, that's all!" she lied, closing the door quickly before he could hex her. Draco didn't know any hexes, but he wasn't about to tell her that. His wand was lying threateningly next to his bed, and Draco glared at it.

"She can be so annoying," he muttered to the fireplace.

"I know the feeling," the fireplace muttered back. "My wife, Lucy, is insane sometimes. Isn't that right, Luce?"

A lamp in the corner nodded enthusiastically.

Draco groaned, walking to the bathroom to change. Why did everything have to talk in this place?

When he got back to the common room, Pansy was there, talking to a very fat girl. Pansy abandoned the conversation when she saw Draco. She walked over to him and scowled at his hair.

"What," Draco said.

"Oh, nothing," she said with fake sweetness. "Want to go get breakfast?"

Draco nodded, because he did. Part of him (a big part) wanted to see Harry. After their short train ride they hadn't gotten to talk much, and now he was a Gryffindor. That was inconvenient.

"Okay but just… try to be normal. Okay?" he said.

"Fiiiine," Pansy groaned. "Only if you can disguise your overflowing affection for me."

Draco glared at her.

Pansy smiled sarcastically. "I hope it won't be too hard on you," she said, with a wink.

Draco almost turned to leave, before he realized something and turned back. Pansy was smiling at him expectantly. "Was that…" he said, pointing his finger at her and glaring. "Was that an innuendo?"

"Oh, no. Never," she said, shaking her head so that her hair bounced around her face, and smiling at him innocently.

"You're impossible."

"You're no fun. Wink."

"Shut up!"

Draco and Pansy sat at the Slytherin table. Hardly anyone else was there, but Draco could see Harry's messy hair from across the hall. He was sitting by Granger, Draco noticed with annoyance.

When Draco thought about it, he wasn't quite sure why he had shaken Harry's hand. He had originally expected to speak to Neville first, after all, he was the famous boy who lived. Father would expect Draco to be acquainted with him; not for friendship (friendship was for mudbloods and Hufflepuffs), but for inside information.

But then Draco had seen Harry and something, something made him hold out his hand. It felt right. The eyes. (He would deny it until the day he died, of course.)

The eyes are the windows to the soul, Father had told him.

Of course, he had meant it in a much more sinister way.

But now Draco found himself wondering if it could be true. Because Harry's eyes were green and bright and full of emotion and life, while Longbottom's were small and dull, just another aspect of his average, pudgy face.

"Dracy, you're ogling him," Pansy remarked causally, taking a sip of orange juice.

Draco glared at her. "No, I'm not. I'm simply examining the Gryffindor table."

Pansy just smirked.

People started flooding into the Great Hall. There was a buzz of excitement around the Gryffindor table that was most likely over Neville Longbottom, and Draco sneered at it.

But then he caught Harry looking at him, and Draco smiled.

()()()

"... I can teach you to brew glory, bottle fame, and put a stopper… in death…"

Harry wondered if Snape gave this speech every year.

He was sitting in between Draco and Hermione, which was interesting because occasionally Hermione would whisper facts about potions into his ear in between Draco's whispers about Weasley, and the marshmallows he could roast in his hair.

Snape kept on asking unfair questions to Longbottom, or making remarks about "entitlement" and "celebrities." Harry was just glad that his attention was on Longbottom, and not on him… but he couldn't help feeling a little bad.

()()()

Harry didn't like Quirrell. (He didn't know why.)

Just an odd feeling he got. Especially the turban. The turban made him shiver, when he wasn't cold at all.

He almost said this to Draco…

But then he didn't.

And he was teaching them about vampires anyway, which were generally unsettling. It probably wasn't the teacher, it was probably the moving pictures of white fangs sinking deep into throats that he kept showing them.

Yes, that was probably it.

()()()

"Do you want to feed her?" Draco asked. They had left the Great Hall after scarfing down some sandwiches to go visit Persephone in the owlery. Harry was glad, because he liked being alone with Draco.

The owlery smelled like dust and feathers. Harry smiled. He loved the owls. Harry held out his hand and Persephone nipped it with her beak. She was so proud and elegant, standing there with her scarlet wings outstretched. Harry nodded, took some seeds from Draco's outstretched hand, and fed them to her.

Harry watched Draco out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't realized how warm his hand had been. He could still feel the heat, tingling in the tips of his fingers.

At least, Harry thought so.

Draco's hand touched Harry's arm.

Accidentally.

Draco moved it away, clenched his fists, rested his hands on the window, stuffed them in his pocket, chewed on his nails. He sneered and frowned and smiled and then just looked at the owls, so that Harry couldn't see his face.

That was confusing.

()()()

Hermione was in the library. She was in front of a stack of books taller than she was, and just staring at them, reading the titles over and over.

Why had she picked these?

She hadn't.

Her fingers had. She had been walking through the library and then, suddenly, she had been holding Albus Dumbledore: a Biography.

Basic Alchemy.

Your Guide to the Elixir of Life.

Nicholas Flamel: an Alchemist.

The Philosopher's Stone: Fact or Fiction?

And now she was staring at the titles.

She knew something was wrong. As soon as she had gotten to Hogwarts she had felt it, but she had felt it before, too. Just little things, but not little enough to ignore. Like how she knew what a basilisk was, even though she was sure she had never read about them. And how a little diary in a bookstore gave her the chills just by looking at it.

And when she had met Harry and Ron? It was like she knew them. She had gone up to Ron, almost without thinking, and started talking as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. And she had seen the scar on Harry's forehead. It was not just a trick of the light.

But it had to be. It was the only thing that made sense, and Hermione was a strong believer in fact. (But she still wrote all these things down.)

And then he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Ron!" she gasped, drinking in his fiery hair, his eyes, his face (She had a crush). She shook her head to clear her mixed up thoughts. "No. Read this!" she pushed one of the books into his hands. "And write down everything you read about the Philosopher's Stone."

Ron stared at her.

()()()

And then it was Halloween.

The troll stomped through Hogwarts, tearing down door frames and screaming portraits, overturning tables and spewing house elves out of windows. The students were huddled in the great hall, listening to his footsteps as it trudged through hallways, so loudly that the ground nearly shook.

It was gone by midnight.

The professors returned, exhausted and sweating, and announced that the students could return to their dorms.

They did.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. No one got hurt. The troll was locked away.

The house elves were fine, by the way.

()()()

Next chapter: awkward silence, guts, and a new CHARACTER!

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