The first few days of classes were nothing exceptional. As the Gryffindors and Slytherins were separated in every class save for potions, Draco didn't get a chance to speak with Harry beyond exchanging a few words in the corridors every now and then. To his surprise, he wasn't as upset by this as he might've been. After the incident with Pettigrew, Ron started gravitating towards Draco, and Draco found that he enjoyed the redhead's utter guilelessness enough to let him do so. While Draco was sometimes tempted to cast a silencing hex on the moron, it was nice having a friend who was entirely without airs, and every once in a while Draco even cracked a smile at behavior that he once would have considered blatant idiocy.
The rest of the Weasleys seemed to pop up in his life with an odd frequency as well. Percy had snapped at a couple older students for whispering about Lucius while Draco was in hearing range-they'd called him a no-good Death Eater, which really wasn't anything but the truth-and Fred and George had gotten in the habit of sitting near him at meals. They were shockingly witty, much more so than the other Draco remembered, and he had a fun time bickering with the two of them over the most ridiculous things.
Outside of the Weasleys, Draco spent most of his free time with Neville. He also made an effort to get close to Hermione Granger, but she couldn't seem to get over the rumors that a few suspicious Gryffindors were still spreading about his family.
"Why?" she demanded, after he'd offered to partner with her in Transfiguration for the first time.
"Why do you bloody well think?" asked Draco. "I'm intelligent. You're intelligent. Everyone else in this room practically needs assistance dressing themselves each morning. I'm trying to spare my sanity."
She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you. Lavender says that you're cruel and bigoted-" Draco greatly doubted that Lavender Brown knew what bigoted meant, but bit his tongue against saying so, "-and that you might try to hurt me because I'm a Muggleborn."
Draco snorted. "My new best friend is a Weasley. They're the worst sort of blood traitors there are. If I were concerned with that sort of thing, I wouldn't let myself be seen anywhere near him."
"You don't sound like you think he's your best friend."
He was very tempted to hex her for being so bloody irritating, and then recalled that he'd allowed his father to rape and kill her in another timeline. Instantly, he felt insanely guilty over his wish to do her harm. He then felt irritated for feeling guilty because none of it had actually happened, and it hadn't been him who'd stood by and let his father hurt her anyway. It'd been that other Draco, who killed people and did whatever Voldemort asked because he was too much of a coward not to.
"Because I sound vaguely insulting when I talk about him? I'm like that with everyone," said Draco, pushing thoughts of his other self from his head. Hermione opened her mouth to say something else, and Draco huffed. "Look. I'm not an idiot. If I wanted to hurt you like you seem to think, I wouldn't do it in class. I also won't sabotage your grade-and honestly, I'm pretty sure you'd think that was worse-because it would mean damaging my own. So just budge over and save your paranoia for when you might actually need it. Alright?"
She opened her mouth, but shut it after a moment and nodded, allowing him to sit next to her.
They were the first ones to complete the assignment, and when (after a similar argument) he convinced her to partner with him in charms as well, they shared similar success. After that, it became a given that they worked together whenever they were given practical work. She never spoke to him outside of class, however, and as she didn't like Ron any more than she did Draco, his clumsy attempts at getting closer to the bushy-haired Muggleborn were largely unsuccessful.
It was a bit frustrating really, and by the time Friday rolled around, Draco was relieved that he'd have double potions with Harry. Fond as he was of Ron and Neville, he really wanted to have a friendly conversation with someone in his year who had real sense.
The door to the potions lab was closed when he arrived, but that gave Draco the opportunity to talk with his Slytherin friend. Ignoring the odd looks the other Slytherins gave him, Draco headed over to where Harry was talking with Blaise Zabini. Everyone went silent at the sight of a Gryffindor willingly seeking out a Slytherin, but Draco pretended not to notice. Harry did the same, smiling broadly when he caught sight of the blond.
"I haven't gotten the chance to say anything, but it's really amazing what you did that first night," Harry said excitedly. "You caught Peter Pettigrew, and everyone thinks my godfather is going to be released from prison."
So much for Harry not finding out. Dumbledore should have known that secrets didn't stay secrets at Hogwarts. Not for very long.
"I know, I know. I'm sensational. No need to fawn."
"Oh, quit acting like you're joking. It's amazing, Draco. I might finally have family."
Harry looked like he was about to hug him, and Draco stepped back a little, just in case.
"Merlin, it's hard to believe you're in Slytherin given your propensity for emotional nonsense," he drawled, keeping his tone light to let Harry know he was joking.
Harry smiled sheepishly. "I think a lot of people have a hard time believing I'm in Slytherin."
"No kidding," Blaise muttered. "I'm not sure which of you two is more surprising. A Slytherin Potter or a Gryffindor Malfoy." The dark-skinned boy peered at Draco. "What on earth happened?"
To Draco's relief, he didn't sound disgusted or irritated. Merely curious.
"I suppose I was simply more brave than cunning," Draco said, shrugging. He looked to Harry. "I'm more interested in what went on with you, really. What did the Hat say?"
"Well, it told me I'd do well in either Gryffindor or Slytherin, and it was going back and forth a bit. I thought Gryffindor at first, since you and Neville were already there, but then I remembered what you said about Professor Snape and my parents. I knew he was head of Slytherin, so I thought maybe he wouldn't hate me so much if I were here—you know, that it'd show him I'm not my father. And, well... I kind of thought that being in his house might get him to like me enough to talk about my mother." He scratched his head embarrassedly. "I also liked the bit you mentioned about Slytherins being self-reliant."
Draco frowned, eyes narrowing as he remembered Harry's appearance when they first met in Diagon Alley. Even now, he was obviously much too thin. "You've had to take care of yourself for a while, haven't you?"
"Doesn't matter," said Harry, looking embarrassed.
He thought that it did matter, even wondered whether Harry hadn't been shoved off to the side to the point of criminal neglect, but the door opened before he could say anything. Snape peered at the students gathered in front of his room, obviously making a point of being as frightening as possible, aquiline features twisted in an expression of barely concealed disdain.
"Inside," he ordered, and turned sharply into the room, robes billowing behind him. The Gryffindors scrambled to follow, terrified both of his appearance and the rumors they almost certainly would've heard about him. Draco rolled his eyes and trailed in with the Slytherins.
"You should sit by me," said Harry, frowning when he saw how the Slytherins drifted to one side of the room and the Gryffindors to the other. "Maybe it'll make the rest of them see that it's okay."
Draco didn't think it'd make much difference, but he did take a seat next to the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry had made a point of choosing the front desk in the middle of the room; it was more than a little obvious that he wanted to make a good impression on Snape, and Draco hoped that this would play out differently than it had in the other timeline. Maybe Snape would refrain from his questioning because Harry was a Slytherin, or maybe Harry had read a little in advance so he could impress the professor by whom he clearly wished to be liked. Either way, knowing that Snape had known his mother obviously made Harry eager to earn the man's approval, and it would surely hurt him if he were treated with the same derision as he'd been in the other Draco's memories.
Snape started with the same speech he had before, and Draco found it every bit as mesmerizing as his first self had. He'd always liked potions—or, he corrected himself hurriedly, the other Draco had always liked potions—and it'd been a bonding point between the professor and himself during his time at Hogwarts. Draco also appreciated the way Snape managed to capture every student's attention without speaking above a low murmur; he found the effect frightening and brilliant at the same time.
About halfway through the speech, Draco noticed that Harry was taking notes and quickly moved to do the same, well aware that having nearly twenty years' of potions experience built up in his head wouldn't be a believable excuse for slacking off. Snape soon paused to take roll—Draco noticed Harry's face fall when the professor sneered over his name, and put a reassuring hand on the other boy's arm—then quickly launched into another lecture.
Draco knew it was coming, but he still tensed when Snape stopped and without warning demanded, "Since you seem to think you know enough to get away with doodling in this class, tell me—what is Golpatt's Third Law?"
The content of the question threw him off, and Draco looked up in shock, blinking when he realized that his godfather's eyes were on him, and not Harry.
He could hardly speak for surprise that Snape would question him in such a manner, but he recovered quickly. His godfather was clearly testing him; giving Draco a question no normal first year could answer to determine whether he'd respond like a Gryffindor or a Slytherin. He wanted to see if Draco would make a point of being obnoxious, or if he'd retain a cool head as his father had taught him.
Draco held back a smirk. It seemed that Snape's experiment didn't take into account the possibility that Draco wasn't a normal first year.
"Golpatt's Third Law states that an antidote to a blended poison is more than the sum of its parts, sir."
Snape's eyes narrowed, but he didn't pause before demanding another answer. "What would be an acceptable remedy to a situation in which Golpatt's Third Law is applicable?"
Draco reclined further into his chair, making a point of looking comfortable in a situation that would've had any other Gryffindor squirming. "There are a number of specifically brewed potions that could work, but they would have to use a variety of ingredients from the antidotes of the mixed poisons, and as such would be expensive and difficult to obtain. The simplest solution would be to swallow a bezoar." He smiled as innocently as he could manage. "Are we really expected to know this, or can I leave it out of the notes I've been taking?"
Snape actually pulled up short at that, but rallied quickly. "I'd merely been wondering whether a night in Gryffindor has left you stupid. Apparently your sorting hasn't rotted your brain quite yet," he drawled, his voice clipped but not angry. Draco relaxed, only to tense up all over again when Snape turned to Harry. "Where would I find a bezoar, Potter?"
Harry fidgeted for a moment, but replied with some confidence, "In the stomach of a goat, sir?" Good. So he read the first chapter this time.
"Correct," said Snape, surprise flashing briefly in his eyes. "Five points for Slytherin."
"What? That's ridiculous!"
Draco gritted his teeth at the sound of Ron's voice. That bloody idiot! Yes, it was infuriating that Snape was prejudiced in giving house points, but they'd just gotten eighty-five and were due fifty more; with how liberally Dumbledore and McGonagall favored the Gryffindors, it was only fair that Snape even things out. Ron could hardly complain about Draco not getting points anyway, not when there'd been enough cheek in his last response that Snape could've justified taking them.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said absently, and Ron flushed with anger and embarrassment. The professor paused, as though to wrestle every bit of enjoyment he could from Ron's (admittedly amusing) expression, then added, "And detention for speaking out in class. If I were you, I would keep your head down; a friendship with a Malfoy cannot get you everything in life, even if it's gained you a fair amount of unwarranted fame thus far."
Ron opened his mouth again, but Draco gestured frantically for him to keep his mouth shut. If Snape saw Draco's rather spastic hand-waving, he didn't comment, likely too entertained by the situation.
Thankfully, Neville whispered something to Ron that convinced him to control himself. Snape gave one last sneer before resuming his series of questions, although Draco noticed he didn't give anyone else anything above first year material. Still, the responses—especially from the Gryffindors, he noted miserably—were rather pathetic (bastard never called on he or Granger once), and by the time he finally put directions for a simple potion on the board, half the class was frustrated and the other practically radiating satisfaction.
"That wasn't very fair," Harry muttered as he and Draco started brewing.
"You saw the point counters this morning," Draco replied, keeping his voice low. "Gryffindor got a huge lead mostly because of dumb luck; Dumbledore favors his old house, so we got more points than capturing Pettigrew was worth. I've heard that the other professors discriminate against Slytherin as well. Snape balances it. Just… more harshly than he needs to. He sticks up for his Slytherins because no one else will. At least that's how I understand it."
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Malfoy. This is not the time to gossip."
Harry's head flew up. "He was defending you, professor."
Snape's expression didn't change, but Draco could see in his eyes that his godfather was surprised.
"He can defend me after class," he said evenly. "Now get back to work, Potter."
Draco shot Harry a reassuring smile—he really did respect Snape, and he knew the other man had his reasons for behaving as he did—before getting back to their brewing. Harry was better at potions than Draco would have expected from his other self's memories (Draco imagined his incompetence before could be contributed largely to his fear and hatred towards the instructor), and even with Draco taking care not to show much more competence than an especially talented first year, they were the first group finished. Draco let his friend present the finished product to Snape, knowing that the other boy wanted to impress his Head of House.
Of course, said Head of House didn't say a word when Harry handed over the potion, but he also didn't insult him. Harry seemed to sense that it was a victory of sorts, because he smiled tentatively at Draco when he reclaimed his seat.
That could have gone worse, thought Draco with some relief. Despite feeling the slightest bit irritated with Snape, he was glad that Harry hadn't burnt his bridges with the man like he had last time. Maybe, with Harry in Slytherin, they really would have a chance to become closer. It was very Gryffindorish of him to hope his friend and godfather could get along, but Draco stood by the sentiment, even when he felt Snape's glare burning into his back as he lingered behind while Ron gathered his things after class.
"Have a good afternoon, Professor," Draco called as they left.
Snape pursed his lips, but said nothing.
Draco merely shrugged at Ron, mouthed, "What do you do?" and dragged the redhead from the classroom before he took the question literally and responded with something that'd cost them more points.
…
Draco knew he was probably abusing his knowledge of the future, but when his first flying lesson came around, he had a very non-Gryffindor plan for it. Honestly, if Harry had been in Gryffindor, he might have done the fair thing and let him get the open seeker spot; as it was, Harry was in Slytherin, and while Draco knew he was better than the team's current seeker, Snape had class at the moment. McGonagall was watching the lesson from somewhere, and therefore Draco had the opportunity to show off for his Head of House. Harry didn't.
Besides, he was saving Harry from the cursed broomstick incident. There was some altruism to his scheme. Albeit very little, but then again, being a Gryffindor didn't exactly make him a saint.
He could barely keep the smirk off his face when Madam Hooch started giving instructions. As expected, Neville soon went airborne in his nervousness. Draco, feeling much too noble to let his friend crash to the ground without anything to break his fall, subtly cast a silent cushioning charm right as the other boy tumbled from his broom. There was still a noticeable thud when he hit, but he wasn't clutching his wrist like he'd been in the other Draco's memories. For a second, Draco worried that Madam Hooch wouldn't take him away since he was uninjured, but to his relief, she insisted on seeing him checked over; he assumed that thirty-foot falls were disastrous enough that she wasn't about to chance leaving a potential injury go undiscovered.
"Stay here while I take this boy to the hospital wing!" Madam Hooch commanded as she dragged Neville off. "Touch your brooms, and you'll be expelled from Hogwarts faster than I can say Quidditch."
"I doubt she'd expel anyone," Draco muttered to Ron. "You wouldn't believe the stuff I've heard they let people get away with at Hogwarts."
"Look!" said Theodore Nott, and Draco turned slowly to face him, doing his best to hide his satisfaction at how things were playing out; oh, this was going to be so good. Sometimes, Slytherins simply didn't know when to leave well enough alone. "That great lump dropped his Remembrall!"
"Hey, that's Neville's!" cried Draco indignantly, using his best 'Weasley' voice, with the proud, indignant sort of tone that served better to egg people on than force compliance. "Give it back!" He blatantly glanced towards Nott's broom, as though he were worried about the other boy taking off with the Remembrall.
Come on, Theo.
The other Slytherin's eyes flashed with amusement. "Ooh, you're worried I'll run off on you?"
"Don't you dare!" Idiot.
Nott grabbed his broomstick and threw one leg over. "Just try to catch me, blood traitor."
Draco's grin took up his whole face as Nott left the ground. Quickly, Draco scrambled to follow, congratulating himself on his magnificent acting skills as he climbed on his broom and flew after Nott. Despite everything, it was nice to know that he still had a little bit of Slytherin in him.
"Neville's grandmother gave that to him!" Draco snapped, inching closer to the other boy. He made a blatant grab for it, but Nott ducked out of the way. The blond feigned frustration. "Give it back."
Nott smirked. "Why don't you get it yourself?"
And he tossed the Remembrall.
Oh, you stupid bastard, thought Draco delightedly, and he took off after the ball as best he could on his awful broom. Even with his experience, it was a difficult catch to make; he nearly dove straight into the ground as his fingers clasped around the orb, only pulling up at the last second and managing a fairly even landing.
He waited one second, then two, and: "DRACO MALFOY!"
"Nott threw Neville's Remembrall," Parvarti Patil piped up.
"It would've broken!" Ron added.
"His neck could've broken." She looked at Draco, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "How dare you! And to think, I had my doubts that you belonged in Gryffindor, you little—oh, if your father would've found out you'd gotten injured in an unattended class-"
"I don't know how much he'd care, considering," Draco cut in.
She shut her mouth and glanced at him sharply. Obviously not knowing what to say to that, she shook her head and merely snapped, "Mister Malfoy, come with me."
Ten minutes later, McGonagall had pulled Oliver Wood out of class and told him that he had a new seeker.
"Malfoy?" asked Oliver incredulously.
"Practice with him," said McGonagall, shaking her head. "He's as good as Charlie."
Oliver's eyes widened. "Right then." He looked at Draco. "Be at the pitch at seven. I wanna see this for myself."
It was all Draco could do not to skip back to the common room.
…
That evening, Oliver escorted Draco back to Gryffindor Tower with a grin on his face, bragging that Gryffindor would surely win its first Quidditch cup in years. He had a hand on Draco's shoulder and was looking at him as though he were his own personal lord and savior.
Draco couldn't remember ever having been so happy in his life.
...
...
...
Author's Note:
A bit later than I'd expected, but real life does that to you, you know. Not a lot happened. Hopefully Harry's sorting was justified a bit better, and of course there's Draco abusing his knowledge of the future to get on the Quidditch team. Hermione finally garnered a mention too, albeit a brief one. As to why I have her so suspicious of Draco-I do think some Gryffindors, especially ones who were raised in the wizarding world, would express blatant distrust towards a Malfoy, even one in Gryffindor. Add to that the fact that pretty much everyone treated Hermione poorly until Halloween, and she wouldn't trust that a Malfoy who was already somewhat popular (courtesy of his Pettigrew stunt) would actually want to spend time with her. She doesn't have anything against him; she's simply trying to protect herself.
As for Snape: no, he doesn't like Harry yet. But with Harry in Slytherin, he really can't act coldly towards him in public without ruining the impression that he blatantly favors his house, hence why he awarded points to Harry instead of Draco. Then, his cool manor towards Draco: Draco's circumstances can't sit well with him. I mean, an expected Slytherin from an old pureblood family befriends a blood traitor and is sorted into Gryffindor... It'd be all too familiar. Snape would also know Draco to be a bit of an arrogant bully, and then the kid goes and gets Sirius Black out of Azkaban on top of it. I think that safely ends his blatant favoritism towards Draco, godson or no.
Seems like those are the only things that should be explained. Other than that, thanks for reading, and I'm glad you seem to be enjoying the story. Please keep up with the amazing reviews :).
