Authors Note: Here's chapter 3! Thanks again to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. I love hearing what you guys think!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, sadly enough. But you should know that already. =)

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Harry was just beginning to panic when the world abruptly stopped spinning. The sudden stillness seemed to hit him like a freight train and he stumbled out of the grate awkwardly, tripping over his trunk as he went. There was a brief moment in which Harry managed to right himself before something rather large and bright orange collided with him and both him and the object in question went tumbling.

"Oof," the thing proclaimed and Harry grunted in response, his legs somehow having gotten tangled with Hedwig's cage and his back stretched uncomfortably over his trunk. Hedwig was furiously attacking every inch of his pant she could reach. "Sorry, sorry," the thing muttered, attempting to right itself and failing miserably, "My rat ran off on me and I guess I just wasn't – oof – looking where I was going…" On closer inspection, the bright orange mass turned out to be a boy – not much older than Harry if his estimates were correct – with pale skin, freckles and flaming red hair. His nose seemed to be covered in dirt.

Before Harry could respond to the boy, however, there was a shout to his left and Draco appeared, bobbing and weaving through the crowd to reach them. "Get off of him, you cretin," he exclaimed when he arrived on the scene. He grabbed Harry's outstretched hand and tugged, yanking him into an upright position. Hedwig squawked indignantly as her cage rolled back and forth on the ground, snapping at him when he reached down to right it. Draco brushed the soot and dirt off of a very embarrassed Harry's new turtleneck shirt before turning to the redhead and scowling. "What do you think you're doing, ginger? That's Harry Potter you just had a go at. I think an apology is in order."

The boy, who had finally managed to right himself as well, stared dumbly at Harry – eyes flashing up at the scar, which was now quite visible through his tousled bangs. He hurriedly smoothed them down, not caring much for a repeat of events at the Leaky Cauldron. "It's alright, Draco," he muttered uncomfortably. The boy was still staring at him with an open mouth. "It was an accident."

Draco snorted. "Doesn't really matter, does it? He still should have been watching where he was going, the bloody moron."

"Well yeah," Harry couldn't help but agree.

"I don't believe you…" The boy had finally closed his jaw and was staring at Draco and Harry with a fierce expression. "You're a Malfoy, aren't you? My dad told me about your family. I bet you're just yanking my chain – trying to make me look stupid before we even get to Hogwarts with this 'Harry Potter' malarkey. Well it's not going to work on me."

Harry felt a stab of anger surge through him, and he snapped back before Draco had a chance. "Yeah, because I'd totally fake being a guy who lost both his parents to Voldemort and grew up with abusive muggles far away from Wizarding Society. Sounds like such a funny joke." Draco gasped and the other boy shuddered violently at the name 'Voldemort,' but Harry continued without apologising, "I don't know what you think you know about Draco, but he's my friend, so just shove off." He bent down to pick up his trunk; only vaguely noticing the slack-jawed redhead and the approving look Draco gave him. "Oh," he continued, moving to stand beside Draco, "and by the way, you don't need us to make you look stupid. You manage that just fine on your own."

Draco sneered. "And close your mouth, ginger. You're drawing flies. I know we're pretty attractive chaps, but we're not interested. Wouldn't want to catch your stupid or anything."

The boy glared back, apparently too distracted to notice the scruffy grey rat that clambered up his leg and perched itself on his shoulder. He opened his mouth, as if to retort back, but at that moment a shrill voice cut through the crowd like a knife, moving steadily closer to them. "Ron? Ron! Oh good gracious boy, where did you- RON!" The boy flinched visibly as a very round, very red woman made her way toward them, hands on her hips and closely followed by four more redheaded children, all ranging in age from a very young looking girl to a tall boy with horn-rimmed glasses.

"Oh look," Draco drawled, nudging Harry in the ribs, "the ginger brigade's come to collect."

The boy before them glared again, but his mother seemed not to have heard, as she scooped him up in her arms and squeezed him tightly before pulling away and giving him a look of fierce reproval. "Ronald, just where have you been?! I was worried sick! Crowded as this platform is, who knows what could have happened to you? You should know better, young man!" Draco sniggered, but Harry had the strong urge to plug his ears. This woman could no doubt break glass with her voice alone. "And who are these young men," she asked, looking Harry and Draco up and down. "I hope you're not getting up to trouble already. I swear, if you turn out like your brothers…" She trailed off, eyes stuck somewhere above Harry's head.

Harry spun around and spotted Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy making their way towards them from another grate. They looked strangely free of soot, for having just traveled from the Dursley's living room fireplace.

"Malfoy," the woman nodded stiffly in acknowledgement when the two arrived.

Mrs. Malfoy simply looked down her nose at the whole family while her husband responded curtly, "Weasley."

She smiled – a thin, obviously fake smile – but a smile nonetheless. "I just came to collect my son, as he seemed to be getting acquainted with yours."

Draco snorted. "If you'd call it that." He turned to his father. "Weasley here rushed Harry and then proceeded to insult the Malfoy name when I arrived to untangle them. Hardly getting acquainted, I should think."

He sneered at the youngest Weasley boy and the boy turned almost as red as his hair in response. "I didn't… He isn't… MOM! Don't listen to him! I lost Scabbers, I was just trying to find him when-"

"You mean that ugly rat on your shoulder?" Harry pointed, and the Weasley boy started, realizing at last that his rat had, in fact, found him. He grabbed it and exclaimed jubilantly,

"Scabbers! There you are!"

"About bloody time you found him," said one of the other Weasley boys, clapping Ron hard on the back.

"Yeah," another chimed in. With a start, Harry realized that the two were twins. "We thought for sure the poor beast had finally offed himself this time, what with all the feet stomping around – "

" – The train wheels –"

" – Lee's tarantula – "

" – The owls – "

"Okay, okay, guys! I get it!" Ron gripped his rat even tighter, casting a glance at Hedwig, who, Harry noticed as well, was eyeing Scabbers quite hungrily. "I'm sorry, mum," he muttered, but Mrs. Weasley wasn't even paying attention to him; she was still glaring intently at Mrs. Malfoy, who was glaring right back.

"I don't believe for one second that my boy started anything, Malfoy. Knowing your kind, he was probably just retaliating to something nasty your boy said."

"How dare you," Mrs. Malfoy seethed, gripping Draco's shoulder and pulling him close. "My kind? And just what would that be, Weasley? Wizards? Because I hate to be the one to crush your muggle-loving dreams, but you are a witch yourself and you would do well to act like one."

Mrs. Weasley looked as though she was about to explode, so Harry stepped in before things were allowed to escalate. "She's right, Mrs. Weasley. Draco didn't do anything wrong. He was just trying to help when your son leveled off on him." He decided to leave out the part about Draco calling Ron a cretin and a moron. Probably best to just skim over that part.

Mrs. Weasley whipped her head around to glare daggers into Harry instead at his proclamation. "And just who is this, then," she spat, "one of your little Death Eater friends?"

The next moment or two was a blur. In the span of maybe half a second, Mrs. Malfoy cursed, all five Weasley children looked absolutely terrified and Lucius and Draco Malfoy both pulled out their wands at almost the same time that Mrs. Weasley did. Mr. Malfoy was practically snarling and all humour had left Draco's face, his expression dark and angry. Mrs. Weasley looked, for a moment, as though she realized that she had crossed a line, but just as suddenly she glared back, resolutely holding to her words.

"I'll have you know, woman, that this is no Death Eater, nor are we. This is Harry Potter, a friend of my son! How dare you!" Harry could see little bits of spittle flying from Mr. Malfoy's reddening face and was suddenly reminded of just how scary he had been back at the Dursley's. That was nothing compared to this.

His wife seemed just as furious as he, however she spoke in an intense, quiet voice, as if she could pierce a hole straight through the woman in front of her with her tone alone. "That is a very serious accusation, Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley, however, didn't seem to be but the slightest bit afraid, though she did seem shocked at Harry's identity. She gave him a quick once-over and then fixed her angry gaze back at the Malfoys. "Well I was very serious about my accusation. All the more reason Mr. Potter shouldn't be anywhere near you people." By this point, the twins had their wands out as well, and Ron seemed to be scrambling for his own, his sister and older brother both looking too frightened to move.

Harry gazed back and forth between the two families, quite confused and alarmed. He wasn't the only one, as many other people had stopped to stare, openmouthed at the quickly escalating feud. Mr. Malfoy seemed to notice this as well, because he hastily stuffed away his wand and stepped pointedly past the whole Weasley family, ignoring every last one. "Come Draco, Harry. We'll be late if we spend any more time doddling with these blood traitors. They're not worth our spit anyways. Narcissa."

Narcissa walked with her head held high to take the arm her husband offered. Draco spared one last scathing look at the Weasleys before following his parents, Harry at his side. Harry would have turned to glare as well, but his head was swimming with so many questions he could barely think straight. All four made a point to ignore the twin's shouted insults, although the sound seemed to follow them all the way to the train.

Despite what Mr. Malfoy had said earlier about being late, they were actually quite early and thus managed to find a compartment all to themselves. At Draco's urging, Harry had already changed into his school robes and stowed his trunk away in the luggage rack. When the train finally started, however, both boys were practically silent. Draco still appeared to be fuming about earlier events, but Harry simply stared out the window, following the growing rural countryside and contemplating everything he had heard.

Being a wizard was going to take a lot of getting used to, and he felt more and more angry toward the Dursleys everyday for keeping all this from him. There was so much he didn't know! Death Eaters, blood traitors, floo powder… He felt lost just thinking about it all. A Death Eater didn't sound like a particularly pleasant thing to be, nor did a blood traitor; and he remembered, with a shiver, the entire Malfoy family's reaction to being called the former. But what Mrs. Weasley had said afterwards, about Harry not being fit to be with them, what did that mean? Unless she was simply referring to him as a hero like everybody else, stating that he deserved better. Harry fumed silently.

He was getting rather sick of all the negative reception the Malfoys received from everyone he met. Sure they were stuck up, but Hagrid and the Weasley family had acted the exact same way, judging not only the senior Malfoys, but Draco as well.

Harry had also contemplated the reason the Malfoys had taken to him so kindly while they snubbed virtually everyone else. The reason could very well be Harry's status, his fame that attracted them, but in the end, that was the only reason anyone bothered with him – except for Draco. Draco hadn't cared. He had struck up a conversation, offered his friendship before anyone else spared him a second glance, save to stare at his scar, that is.

He turned to sneak a glance at his friend, and Draco met his eyes, smiling slightly. "You okay?" Harry asked, noticing the intensity with which Draco still gripped his robes.

"Fine," he said. He seemed to think on it for a second before adding, "as if I'd let what some Weasley wench said get under my skin." He loosed his grip and smoothed down the front of his robes, regaining his composure. "I suppose you're wondering what a Death Eater is then?"

Harry's cheeks tinted faintly. "Er… yes. I mean, I was, but if you don't want to talk about it…"

"No, it's fine." Draco turned from where he had been staring out the window to look Harry in the eye. "I don't mind," he continued, "and you'd find out eventually anyways, so I'd rather it be from me."

Harry leaned forward in his seat, trying not to look overly interested.

"Death Eaters were the Dark Lord's followers, back when he was alive. They supported his mission – to destroy the statute of secrecy and establish Wizards as the ruling class – an idea I must say I agree with; however, they did… horrible things to achieve it. They tortured and killed anyone who stood in their way – whole families." Harry was looking at him with wide eyes and he must have noticed, because he continued quickly, "It was the Dark Lord himself who killed your parents, but it was the type of thing he normally sent his Death Eaters to do, as I understand." He stopped to regard Harry now, curiosity written clearly on his face. "Just how much do you know about what happened that night?"

Harry shrugged. "Just what Hagrid's told me. Vol – sorry – you-know who killed my parents, then he tried to kill me but he couldn't."

"You do know that's what killed him, though, right? Something about you – "

"Wait," Harry interrupted, remembering what Hagrid had said on the matter, "you don't really think he's dead, do you? I was only a baby – I couldn't have…"

Draco leaned forward, eyes shining with barely concealed interest. "But that's the mystery of it, isn't it? No one knows how you managed it, but you did! You killed him! For Merlin's sake, Harry, you're a hero!"

"I'm not!" he snapped, feeling his temper flare. "I was a baby, Draco. I mean, I don't even remember what happened. I wasn't doing anybody any favours! Besides, I thought you sympathized with the murderer! Why am I a hero all of a sudden?!" He was being unreasonable and he knew it, but for some reason, he found it difficult to hold his tongue.

Draco narrowed his eyes, seeming to prepare himself for an argument. "I said I agreed with his goals, Potter, not his means. There's no need to bloody attack me for it! I was just curious if you remembered anything from that night. You had to have known that I'd ask eventually."

"Yeah well, since you're so interested, I'll share. I can remember a lot of green light and this high, cold laughter – your bloody saviour, I imagine – laughing at his prior conquests and how easy it would be to murder an infant. That satisfy your curiosity?" Harry turned away and folded his arms, staring out the window once more. There was a long silence between the two of them, almost tangible. The frivolous chatter in the corridor outside their compartment seemed to intensify that silence even further. Harry imagined that perhaps he had gone overboard. He hadn't meant to snap at Draco the way he had; after all, he was sure that his friend didn't mean any offence; Harry was just being too sensitive. He was tired of being called a hero, tired of people prying into a horrible past he couldn't even remember – and maybe he was simply mad at himself that he couldn't remember it. He had just resigned himself to an apology when his companion startled him by doing it first.

"I'm sorry, Harry," the blonde spoke quietly. His eyes were averted, so as not to damage his pride, Harry supposed; but he could easily see the regret there – a kind of guilty sadness, as though he wished he hadn't provoked Harry into his confession. "I shouldn't have prodded. I… wasn't lying when I said that I sympathized with the Dark Lord's cause, but believe me when I say that what he did to you – to your family – was horrible. I… Well, I can't imagine what I would do if I lost Mother and Father…"

Harry caught his eyes finally and smiled, relieved when Draco smiled back, some of the hurt leaving his expression. "I'm sorry too," he said, glad once again that they had avoided a serious row. "I don't know why I acted the way I did. I guess… I guess it just really gets to me now that I know what really happened." Draco nodded in understanding. He seemed to be much more sympathetic once he imagined the same thing happening to his own parents. "I believe you, by the way," Harry continued, "about what you said about You-Know-Who, how you feel about him. I shouldn't have used that against you, just because you hold similar beliefs."

"You're better than the Weasleys, then," Draco said – smile fading fast. Upon Harry's questioning glance, he scooted closer and looked around quickly, as if afraid of being overheard. "It's what I meant to tell you earlier. Some people, the Weasleys included, are inclined to believe that my father – of all people – was a Death Eater. As if Father would sink to such levels. He does, of course, believe that muggles should be second-class and he's not afraid to voice his opinion on that matter, but he would never… He wouldn't torture or kill anyone. Not in his right mind, at least."

Harry looked at Draco in confusion. "In his right mind? Why would he do it at all…?"

Draco gathered himself up, narrowing his eyes and straightening his back. He seemed to be compensating for whatever he was about to say – something he was obviously not proud of. "Have you ever heard of the Imperius Curse, Harry?" Harry shook his head. "It's one of the Unforgiveable Curses," he continued. "There are three of them and they're all strictly prohibited – unforgivable, like I said. The Imperius Curse allows for complete control of anyone, wizard, witch, muggle, animal even." He gave Harry a meaningful look and continued in an even lower voice. Harry had to lean forward to hear him. "My father did some… questionable things in the war, things he isn't proud of. You can guess why."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Voldemort – "

"Don't say his name!" Draco practically yelled.

Harry started. "Sorry, sorry, You-Know-Who, I mean. He was… controlling your father?"

Draco nodded, still looking a bit jumpy. "He did it to a lot of people. Good way to spread fear, you know. You never know who could be watching, controlled by the Dark Lord; you'd never know what you yourself might end up doing to someone. My father was even tried after the war, but his defence held up. He was innocent, technically."

Harry shivered. Magic was a two way street, to be sure. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "both for what happened and for the way you've been treated for it. It's not right for people to assume like that."

Draco smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Silence once again stretched throughout the compartment as England faded into Scotland in brilliant flashes of green countryside. Harry, who had never left suburbia before, except for a few trips into the city for Dudley's birthday at the zoo and a few other scattered visits, was in awe at the beauty of it all. He had seen Scotland's legendary beauty in movies, of course, but the green of the grass seemed so much more vivid in real life, the hills and plains more breathtaking.

Their silence was finally broken when the trolley passed, both boys jumping at the chance to buy sweets. After the brutal realisation that there were no Mars Bars in the wizarding world, Harry proceeded to purchase at least one of everything he saw, from Chocolate Frogs, to Pumpkin Pasties, to Liquorice Wands and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Draco practically snorted at the pile of sweets, but didn't complain, and as soon as the trolley left they both tucked in to their veritable feast.

They had already made their way through several chocolate frogs apiece, and Harry was just trying to discover the best way to eat a liquorice wand without being shot in the face with green sparkles when their compartment door was thrown aside gracelessly to reveal a girl with bushy brown hair and obnoxiously large front teeth, followed closely by a small boy with a round face. Harry simply stopped mid-chomp and stared, while Draco coughed and spluttered on his piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"Sorry to interrupt," the girl said in a high, shrill voice, "but have either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

Harry shook his head, his Liquorice Wand still feebly attempting to hex him even though it had been bitten in half. Draco coughed once more, his eyes watering. "My gum…" he wheezed.

"Oh for heaven's sake," the girl sighed, exasperated, "you shouldn't swallow gum, you know. My parents told me once that it won't digest for seven years. They were lying, of course – both dentists, you know – but all the same, it's terrible for your stomach, even worse for our teeth."

Draco gave Harry a bewildered look. "Dentists?"

"Oh but of course you wouldn't know," the girl chirped, "Dentistry is a muggle profession – the care of people's teeth. Both my parents are muggles so you can imagine their shock when I received my letter. We've never had a witch in the family before. Of course I've practically memorized all my schoolbooks already, but I can't wait to begin my studies! It's all so fascinating, isn't it?" She paused to take a much-needed breath while Harry and Draco exchanged glances. This one was going down on his list of people to stay far away from, right above the Weasley boy. "My name's Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger." She stuck her hand out proudly, smiling at them both.

Draco regarded the hand as though it carried some violent form of infectious disease, and Harry simply stared at the girl in disbelief. There was no way she could be for real. Hermione finally retracted her hand, looking a bit disappointed.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco finally said, still looking down his nose at the girl, "and this is Harry Potter. Excuse us if we'd rather not sully our hands with your mudblood filth, but we do have dinner yet to go."

The boy behind Hermione Granger gasped, startling Harry, who had forgotten that he was still there. Hermione, however, simply narrowed her eyes and shifted her glance to their towering pile of sweets. "I can see that," she said coldly. "Well you can just go ahead and choke on your junk food and die, for all I care. I'll not interrupt you again." She spun on her heel and stalked from the doorway, Neville staring dumbly at Draco and Harry before her shrill voice carried back to him and he jolted, scrambling after her. "Come on, Neville, let's go and find out when we'll be arriving. Leave these two idiots to stuff their faces in peace."

Draco slammed the door behind them, scoffing, and flopped back into his seat rather unceremoniously. "Pass me one of those pasties, will you, Harry?"

Harry tossed one to him, still staring off after the bossy know-it-all and her sidekick. "Draco," he began, turning to look at his friend, "what's a mudblood?"

"Mm," Draco finished chewing his bit of pasty and swallowed. "A mudblood is a muggle who thinks he's a wizard. You know, someone who's born to muggles but can do bits of magic." He took another bite of pasty.

Harry frowned. "But I thought wizards could only be born to other wizards?"

"That's the way it's supposed to be," he drawled, "but every once in a while, a muggle's born with magic ability and crackpots like that Albus Dumbledore go and invite them to Hogwarts where they inevitably learn things they shouldn't be privy to and then breed with respectable purebloods, dirtying the bloodlines and pushing true purebloods like me to the brink of extinction." He crumpled up his pasty wrapper and tossed it on the seat next to him before continuing, "It's getting harder and harder to find witches with a decent lineage, Father says. I don't know how I should be expected to find a suitable wife at this rate."

Harry couldn't help the snort that followed this, but he quickly suppressed it at Draco's glare. "Sorry," he said, "but surely you're not already thinking about marriage? You're what, eleven? Isn't it a bit early to be thinking like that, mate?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course not. The Malfoy name is an old one and I'm my parent's only child. I have to marry someone with pure blood to carry on the line, don't I? I'm only reminded of it every other day. Can't be fooling around with the wrong crowd…" He glanced out the window, for the first time looking rather bitter about his family. "I don't really have much of a choice who I marry, come right down to it."

Harry put a hand on Draco's knee and squeezed, not sure what else he could do to comfort his friend. He couldn't imagine such a restricted life. "That's rough," he muttered. He was lost on what else to say.

Face softening momentarily at Harry's touch, Draco smiled. Harry couldn't help but notice the slight pinkish tinge on his friend's cheeks, so he hurriedly jerked back his hand to scratch his nose, feeling his own face start to burn. Draco's smile faltered for a split second before he replaced it with a smirk. "It doesn't matter," he drawled, inspecting his nails in a very interested fashion. "It's not like I could possibly fall for anyone of a lower calibre anyways." He grinned at Harry, who grinned back.

After that, they sat in a thick silence until a voice echoed throughout the train, informing them they had arrived at Hogwarts. The two exited the train wordlessly.