"We have to ride in a boat?" Hermione asked, giving the lake a suspicious look. "It's dark out," she said, moving a step closer to Draco so they were almost touching.
Draco reached down and clumsily grabbed onto her hand. She made a tiny peep but didn't pull away. "I'll ride with you," he said. "Same boat. Won't let go. It'll be fine, I promise."
Harry stood on her other side and looped an arm around her shoulders. "No one's drowned in at least seven years," he said, his voice completely serious. "I doubt you'll be the one to mess up the safety record."
Draco felt her squeeze his hand and he muttered, "Don't be a jerk, Harry. She's really nervous and you aren't helping."
"It's just that it's so dark," she said, her voice taking on a certain false bravado. "I'm sure it's fine. A little weird that we have to take boats when everyone else is riding in carriages pulled by nothing."
Harry looked back at the carriages. "They're pulled by ugly horses, what are you talking about?"
Draco blinked at him a few times, looked over at the carriages, and then back at Harry. "She's right, mate," he said. "They're being pulled by nothing.
Theo came up behind them. "I can see them too," he said. "Who's your new friend?"
"Hermione," Draco said. "And you probably know Neville."
Theo Nott looked at the boy standing off to the side, holding his toad in a pocket with one hand. "Not really," he said.
"Longbottom," Draco said.
Theo shrugged. "I don't really know all the blood traitors." He said the words without any heat or menace but Neville stepped back anyway, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I'll see you all in the castle before we all get put into Slytherin."
"Slytherin?" Hermione said the word softly as she watched the lanky, dark-haired boy walk away. "I don't think I'll be sorted into Slytherin."
"No," Draco said, not really paying attention because he was frowning at Theo's back. "Mudbloods never are."
"Draco." Harry said the name with shocked disapproval and Hermione, who'd heard Harry say 'fuck', 'bloody', 'goddamn', and 'shite' multiple times already on the train turned her head to stare at him. "Don't talk like that. Don't – "
"Shite," Draco said. "I'm sorry." He squeezed Hermione's hand again. "I didn't mean it. It's just… a bad habit from hearing my dad."
"What's it mean?" she said, her tone suggesting she already knew what it meant.
"It's a bloody rude word," Harry said. "If his mum heard him use it she'd wash his mouth out with soap."
"It means Muggle-born," Neville said. He was glaring at Draco too. "And it's an awful word. The worst word."
"I said I was sorry," Draco snapped at the boy. "It just… came out." He looked at Hermione and said again, almost helplessly, "I didn't mean it."
Hermione made to tug her hand away from his but then a giant man was herding them onto the rickety seeming boats and she gulped and held on tighter instead.
"I really am sorry," Draco whispered in her ear after he'd helped her into one boat and settled next to her. "I… it's the way my dad talks. I didn't mean it, not the way… I won't do it again."
Just then the boat moved off and she closed her eyes and said, "I wish it weren't so dark. What if there's something in the water?"
"Like the giant squid?" Harry asked.
"Merlin, Harry," Draco snapped. "Are you trying to freak her out on purpose?"
"Well, there is a giant squid," he said, "and if she's really read that boring book about the school she knows that."
"And mermaids," Hermione said, her voice tiny. "In Muggle stories mermaids are quite nice but I think – "
"Yeah," Neville said. "They're not that nice."
"I just want to be Sorted and find my room and – "
"And eat," Harry said. "There's a feast."
"What if you're in Slytherin?" Hermione asked, clearly starting to get nervous about something else now. "You're the only people I know and… and…"
"I won't be in Slytherin," Neville said. "M…my parents were both in Gryffindor so I will be too."
"Oh, good," she said with evident relief. "Maybe we'll be together then."
"It runs like that in the old families," Harry said. "House affiliation, I mean. My dad and mum were both in Gryffindor too. All the Potters were."
"Not always," Draco said. He sounded a little defiant. "Your godfather was in Gryffindor and he was a Black."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Dad's a bit of a rebel."
"A bit?" Draco asked. They were approaching the shore by now and he could tell Hermione was distracted by their conversation so he kept going. "He owns a motorbike. A flying motorbike." Draco lowered his voice and added as though this were the ultimate forbidden thing. "He has tattoos."
"Are tattoos that bad in the wizarding world?" Hermione asked.
"My dad told me to never ever get one," Draco said. "Not of anything."
"Huh," Hermione said. "I wonder why."
Draco shrugged. The boats had landed and he helped her out. "Time to get Sorted," he said as cheerfully as he could.
"I hope we're together," she said. "All of us."
"Me too," Neville said.
"Yeah," Draco said.
"It wouldn't be fair," Hermione said, squeezing his hand, "to finally meet a real live dragon and then have him get put in another House."
Draco's blush was hidden in the darkness; he'd never simultaneously hated his stupid name and been grateful for it at the same time before, but ever since Harry had decided it was hilarious that this girl had a thing for dragons and his name basically was dragon he'd wavered between wanting to crawl into a hole and never come out and being glad he'd caught her attention.
"Yeah," he muttered again. "That would be unfair."
. . . . . . . . . .
The First Years all hovered, waiting for their turn to be Sorted.
Draco didn't even know what to hope for. Harry would surely be in Gryffindor. Potters always were. And he'd be in Slytherin. Malfoys always were and he knew he wasn't brave or unusual like Sirius. He'd never done anything bold or foolish or… so he just put a sneer on his face and looked around at all the other students with disdain.
The hat had barely touched Hermione's head before it yelled out "Gryffindor" and she jumped up and ran over to their table. The hat didn't hesitate before putting Longbottom in there with her. When it was his turn Draco tossed the cockiest look he could at Harry before sauntering over to the stool.
Professor McGonagall gave him a searching look before she settled the hat on his head.
He sat there and waited for the hat to yell out "Slytherin" but instead the thing spoke inside his head.
"Well," it said, "Fragments and reflections and echoes. How interesting. Things are different for you because of events that never happened."
"What?" Draco asked it, confused.
"Bravery, self-sacrifice you have made and yet haven't – you're quite the unusual boy," the hat continued.
"I'm not brave," Draco admitted to it. "I'm scared all the time."
The hat laughed and he could feel himself starting to sulk. A hat was laughing him at. A hat. "You think that bravery is not feeling fear?" the Sorting Hat asked. "Sometimes I forget how young you all at this moment."
Draco was going to ask it what that meant by that when it called out, "Gryffindor" and he scrambled off the stool to shocked silence from the Slytherin table. He looked back at Theo and Harry. Theo's face had closed down but Draco knew him well enough to see the unhappiness the other boy was hiding. Harry, on the other hand, looked overjoyed.
Draco looked up at McGonagall who made a shooing gesture at him and he ran over to the Gryffindor table and slipped in next to Hermione.
"This is great," she said.
"Yeah," Draco said, but he looked back at Theo and watched his childhood friend Sorted into Slytherin and away from him. Theo looked over at him and swallowed before shrugging and sitting down with his new Housemates.
When Professor McGonagall called Harry's name the room got very quiet. "It's true," Draco heard a ginger haired boy still standing with the unsorted First Years say in a voice that carried in the sudden silence. "Harry Potter is at Hogwarts this year."
Murmurs of "Harry Potter" and "the boy who lived" began to make their way from one student to the next until the boy slunk forward and climbed onto the stool.
"Is it always like that?" Hermione asked Draco in a whisper.
"Pretty much," he said back. "Everywhere he goes. It's awful."
Harry was Sorted into Gryffindor and nearly ran to join them, sliding in next to Draco with a look of relief. The Sorting continued and Draco was less than pleased to see the ginger haired git who'd been so loud-mouthed about Harry joined them at the Gryffindor table. He eyed the boy and said with a cold sneer, "You'll come to learn, Hermione, that in the wizarding world some families are better than others. Red hair. Hand-me-down robes. This must be a Weasley."
She yanked her hand away from his. "So you're snotty about class too?" she demanded and Draco crossed his arms and glared at the newcomer. Now he had two reasons to dislike the boy. Three if you counted that he was a Weasley.
He decided he was going to go with three.
"Wow," the boy said, thrusting his hand out toward Harry. "Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, that's amazing!"
"Yeah," Harry said, taking the hand for only a brief moment.
"And you are?" Hermione asked. She had narrowed her eyes at the boy and Draco felt a little thrill that she didn't seem to like him.
"Ron," he gushed, still looking at Harry. "Ron Weasley. Wow. Wait until I tell my mum that Harry Potter's in my House."
"He doesn't really like being fussed over for that Boy-Who-Lived thing," Hermione said. She sounded like a condescending know-it-all and Draco, who'd pegged her as a vulnerable bundle of nerves, blinked a few times.
"Why not?" Ron Weasley asked. "You're famous," he said to Harry.
"Maybe," Hermione said, her tone still snottier than Draco had heard from her on the train or in the boat, "he'd rather not be reminded of how his parents died." She nearly hissed the last two words and Ron Weasley had the grace to blush.
Harry gave her a quick, grateful smile and then they all turned and began listening to a confusing and utterly not-helpful welcoming speech. "Stay out of the Forbidden Forest," Hermione repeated, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to take notes, "and away from the third floor corridor." Draco saw her almost begin to reach for the bag she'd carried all the way in herself, the one with her copy of Hogwarts: A History and her Dragon, then stop herself.
Draco looked back up at the Head Table, trying to guess which professor taught what. McGonagall, who he knew was now his Head of House, was studying the Gryffindor table with what seemed like more than idle curiosity. He remembered the way she'd looked at him before he put the Sorting Hat on and shivered. His mum sometimes looked at him that way, as if he reminded her of someone else, as if she were trying to trace some other boy's features in the shape of his eyes or line of his jaw.
It had been beyond creepy to see a woman he'd never met before do it too.
Severus Snape, who had been to the Manor a handful of times and with whom his parents were cordial, was staring at him as well, his eyes flicking now and then over to Harry. The man's expression was dark and resentful and Draco moved closer to his friend on the bench, worried.
. . . . . . . . . .
"Gryffindor?" Severus Snape drawled the words out in the faculty lounge after the prefects had herded all the little First Years up, or down, to their dorms. "A Malfoy?" He laughed. "Lucius will have kittens."
Minerva McGonagall shrugged as she poured herself a cup of tea. She wasn't looking forward to the Howler she was sure to get from Lucius Malfoy – she'd already sent Narcissa a quick owl – but she wasn't surprised. Anyone who would travel back in time and risk negating his own existence to try to prevent a war had a streak of reckless courage that belonged in her House. It was eerie to see the lines of the tired and injured boy she'd met so many years before echoed in his younger self. Eerie, too, to see the scarred and horror-stricken girl repeated in smug little Hermione Granger, also, unsurprisingly, one of hers.
"I find your phrasing a little offensive," was all she said. "Have kittens, Severus? Really?"
"Oh, so sorry," the man said. "I forgot for a moment your bond with all things feline, Minerva."
"Why don't you go see about welcoming your little snakes?" Minerva suggested, controlling the irritation that threatened to color her tone by force of will. "I saw you have a few who look like they might need the rules explained to them using very small words."
Severus narrowed his eyes. "Why, Minerva," he said before he swept away. "How catty of you."
. . . . . . . . .
A/N – Ah, thank you all for the ongoing amazing response to this.