CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Changing Colours
There was freedom in this, Draco realised as he strolled casually down the corridor.
Freedom, power, and a distinct opportunity for causing mischief if he felt so inclined. He was certain that Fred and George Weasley would not hesitate to wreak havoc on the Hogwarts Express if they possessed the advantage he did now, and he had to admit that he was sorely tempted by the idea. But another use for it had occurred to him, which appealed far more to his Slytherin nature. Being able to wander the train unseen was all well and good – especially since it enabled him to relax and stop worrying, at least for a short time, about the decision he had yet to make – but he would be remiss if he did not use this chance to its full potential.
And so he made his way purposefully toward the Slytherin compartments, the trailing hem of Potter's Invisibility Cloak rustling quietly around his ankles.
No one heard him pass and no one saw him. There were no suspicious glances or angry glares aimed in his direction, no acerbic comments or deliberate snubs. The other students all went about their business as though he wasn't there, because, of course, they had no way of knowing that an invisible Draco Malfoy was in their midst, and that was exactly the way he wanted it. While the Slytherins he had encountered so far had not displayed any unwillingness to let him know their revised opinions of him, he was sure there would be more information to be gleaned from them here and now, when they were unaware that he was listening.
He decided to enter Pansy's compartment first – the compartment that, had he rejected his mother's plea to Dumbledore for his protection and joined the Death Eaters instead, Draco would have probably been running, with the inhabitants hanging on his every word. How things had changed.
It was a simple matter to slip in close on the heels of Millicent Bulstrode before she had a chance to close the door. He swiftly ensconced himself in a corner.
"Millie," Pansy greeted her with a nod. "How was your holiday?"
Millicent shrugged. "Nothing special. We go to the same place every year, so I pretty much just felt out of the loop for two months… But I get the sense that I interrupted something. What's going on?"
Pansy's face gave an irritated twitch. "We were just discussing the Blood Traitor."
Draco caught his breath.
"Weasley?" Millicent questioned with a puzzled frown.
Pansy snorted. "As if that low-life scum would ever be worthy of conversation. No, this traitor revealed his colours far more recently and he comes from within our own house."
There were grumbles of dissent around the room; Millicent's mouth parted slightly in an unconscious gape of surprise.
"So it's true, then?" she asked. "I heard rumours going up and down the train, but I couldn't believe it – Draco Malfoy has really turned?"
"Unless he is on an undercover mission to kill Harry Potter that even the Dark Lord doesn't know about, yes, it would appear that Draco has turned," Pansy answered tersely.
So is that what it would take to be accepted back? Draco wondered. Would I have to turn Potter over to the Dark Lord to be killed, or kill him myself? It was true that he was in a better position to aid the Dark Lord in his plans than he would have been if he had simply joined the Death Eaters outright. Potter trusted him now, believed him to be a friend and a protector. Betraying him would be almost laughably easy.
"What happened?" Millicent demanded. "Last I saw of Draco he was raring to take his father's place and get bloody revenge on Potter."
"Narcissa said that he ran away from home without warning or reason a few days into the holidays," Pansy explained.
"Probably heard that the Dark Mark ritual hurt something fierce and was too chicken to go through with it," Goyle grunted, and Crabbe snickered his agreement.
"Draco always has been a bit of a wimp," Blaise drawled. Draco had to fight down the sudden urge to deck him for his insolence. "I doubt he would have had the stomach for the tasks the Dark Lord would have given him anyway."
"Just because he ran doesn't mean he is a traitor, though, right?" Millicent said. "A coward, certainly, but maybe he just wasn't ready yet. What makes you think he actually turned? Has he said as much?"
"Actions speak louder," Pansy pointed out. "Draco showed up a few weeks after he vanished… in Little Whinging."
"I haven't heard of it."
"That is because it isn't a wizarding town, it is a Muggle suburb," Pansy stated with clear disgust. Crabbe and Goyle echoed her with faked vomiting sounds.
"Draco was hiding in the Muggle world?" Millicent exclaimed. "How could he stoop so low?"
Draco's nostrils flared. It had not been his idea.
"Oh, that isn't the worst of it," Pansy assured her. "Guess who lives in Little Whinging. Guess whose house Draco was staying in. I'll give you a hint – his only claim to fame is being alive and having a hideous scar scrawled across his forehead."
"You can't… you don't seriously mean Harry Potter do you?"
Crabbe and Goyle resumed their gagging noises as Pansy nodded. "I know! I thought my father was kidding when he said that he saw Potter and Draco together, so he showed me his Pensieved memories. The two of them fought side by side against my father and the other Death Eaters. Side by side, working together, like they were friends or something. It was disgusting! And when my father finally managed to get Potter with a trip jinx, Draco decided to act like he was some bloody Gryffindor and save Potter's life!"
There were gasps of horror from around the room and Draco shrank back even though he knew they couldn't see him. It was a matter of deepest shame for a Slytherin to be caught associating with Gryffindors, let alone to share in some of their attributes.
"And then, if that wasn't enough," Pansy continued, "Draco turned up at the house of the Blood Traitor Weasleys, and joined in battle in their defence. Apparently, if it had not been for his interference, Potter would be in the hands of the Dark Lord now and the war would be pretty much over."
"Draco hates the Weasleys," Millicent said. "And he especially hates Potter; he has loathed that stuck up Gryffindor since the moment they met on the train in first year. None of this makes any sense!"
"Well I sincerely doubt the namby-pamby wizards that follow Dumbledore would use Imperious on Draco – they wouldn't like to get their hands dirty that way. If he has been Polyjuiced, where is the original and who would go to all this bother to discredit him? No, it is Draco alright, acting of his own accord. And he shall not be forgiven."
Pansy was glaring as she delivered this conclusion, but Crabbe snickered. "I think Malfoy is in for a bad year," he drawled, cracking his knuckles and layering the word 'bad' with heavy emphasis.
Draco swallowed silently.
The others in the compartment laughed and the conversation moved on to other things. Draco began to feel stiff from staying in one position too long.
"I'm bored," Goyle eventually announced.
Draco felt a stirring of unease. He remembered saying those same words himself, many times, and it had inevitably led to the three of them searching out some form of entertainment. Usually, picking on the younger students of other Houses or bugging Potter and his friends.
Crabbe grinned. "Me too. Let's go do something."
Draco had the unsettling suspicion that he knew which option they were going to choose today.
Crabbe and Goyle stood up, stretching out their huge muscles simultaneously before exiting the compartment. Draco followed them, trying to keep his movements as quiet as possible. He knew if he was found here, spying on members of his own House, he would be visiting Madam Pomfrey before the Great Feast had even started.
"Goyle," Pansy called sharply and Draco froze, wide-eyed. "When will you ever learn to shut the door?"
He exhaled gently. It had annoyed him, too, in the past, but now he was grateful for it because it offered him an easy escape. Their gargantuan footsteps masked his, as well, which was most convenient.
They stalked down the corridor, Draco trailing behind them. Snippets of conversation came to him through doors that had been left open and occasionally he slowed down to listen.
"…cousin went missing a few weeks ago… whole family was freaking out, thinking she had been killed or captured… turned out she was just eloping with that toad Phil Tudson… my aunt and uncle were furious…"
"…mum's obsessed with following… security advice in the Daily Prophet… so unreasonable…"
"…glad that they finally got rid of that idiot Fudge… not sure that Scrimgeour is much better… arrested Stan Shunpike…"
"…Aurors locked up another 26 Death Eaters… least someone is getting it right…"
"…hear that Melanie is dating Brad now?...such a bad match… bet it won't last…"
"…my parents were seriously considering moving us to Switzerland… grandfather lives there… but magical education isn't as good…"
"…really think that Harry Potter is the Chosen One?..."
"…apparently Draco Malfoy ran away from home…"
Hearing those words, Draco stopped outside the carriage and saw that it was filled with Ravenclaws. The news was spreading beyond the children of Death Eaters, as he had feared it would. It hadn't taken very long at all.
Someone snorted. "Got sick of all his servants and riches, did he?"
"I heard he was running scared. After his father got caught at the Ministry, You-Know-Who was going to kill Draco in revenge."
"Yeah, right. Draco Malfoy is like the poster boy for pureblood supremacy."
"Pure-bloody arrogance you mean."
A ripple of laughter.
"Serve him right if he has got a death sentence hanging over his head, the bastard. He has always been lording it over us, thinking he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it because of who his father was. Not anymore though."
"Well I, for one, am not going to put up with any more rubbish from him this year. One wrong word or move from Draco, and I will not be responsible for my actions."
"Don't do anything stupid. We're Ravenclaws, remember, not Gryffindors."
"I don't care. I don't! Death Eaters like Draco's father killed my mum."
A long pause. "Yeah, I know," someone ventured quietly. "I'm sorry, man."
"They killed her. They just killed her. She hadn't even done anything. They murdered my mum! She's dead because of them. Gone, forever. I hate them. I hate them! I- I…"
There was the sound of choked back sobs and Draco began to feel distinctly awkward about eavesdropping. He didn't even know the boy who had lost his mother, but his grief was all too obvious and it tugged at Draco's own emotions. He couldn't even imagine how he would feel if he were in the same position, but even the thought of losing her was unbearable.
Death Eaters had murdered this woman and torn apart this family, and it was just one cruel act among countless others. They were despicable.
Draco realised anew that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. He didn't want to be associated with them. He didn't want to hang around their like-minded children and their supporters. He didn't want people such as these Ravenclaws to look at him and his actions and consider him to be a part of their ilk. He wasn't like them anymore. He refused to be.
Draco shored up his courage and determination and strode determinedly after Crabbe and Goyle. He knew what their intentions were and he knew now what his response was going to be. They weren't going to like it.
ooOOoo
"…spent a whole month living in a tent in the middle of the Doxey Marshes – an entirely misleading name, of course, because everyone knows that Doxies despise the wetlands and can't be found anywhere near them. The Marshes really should be named after the hundreds of Bogglemumphs that live there, instead… Not that anyone has ever seen one of course, but that's why Dad and I were there looking for them…"
Harry let the words wash over him, only half listening as Luna described the latest creatures her father had been researching and writing about in The Quibbler. He doubted that they actually existed, but Luna was bubbling with excitement over them and he decided that her open-mindedness was a refreshing alternative to the cynicism of most people. After all, she might have no proof that Bogglemumphs were real, but no one had any proof that they weren't real either.
"…left out all sorts of different food for them, since we don't know what they like to eat…"
He felt a smile tugging at his lips. When he had met Luna at the start of last year, she had given off an aura of distinct dottiness and his first inclination had been to avoid her in case it was infectious. He had not expected that she would become a friend of his, but he was glad she had.
"Did you see any masterwort shoots or bogweed while you were there?" Neville interjected when Luna paused for breath. He was another person Harry had never expected to grow particularly close to, but had certainly proven his worth, mettle and loyal friendship last year.
"Why? Do they attract Bogglemumphs?"
"Uh, not that I know of, but they have plenty of other useful properties. Masterwort, for example-"
His words were cut off by an argument in the corridor that had come within earshot. "It hurt, Hermione! The least you could do is explain why you did it!"
Ron stormed into the compartment and flung himself onto a seat, propping a foot up on his knee almost immediately and cradling it protectively with his hands.
Hermione followed him in more sedately, though her tight expression indicated that she, too, was annoyed. "I was preventing you from doing something stupid, Ronald, as usual! It seems to be a full time occupation!"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron snapped.
"Come on, it was obvious that any interference from us was only going to make the situation worse, but you were just going to blunder in anyway."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Big surprise there. I'm talking about Draco."
"What about him?" Harry asked, wondering if this went beyond a typical squabble between his two best friends.
"I was just going to say hi," Ron protested. "Where's the crime in that?"
Neville raised his eyebrows and Harry realised how peculiar that statement from Ron would sound to someone who hadn't been privy to everything that had happened to them this summer. Harry hadn't felt like sharing even the abridged version of his not-so-pleasant school break, so his response to their question of how his holidays were had been deliberately vague; Harry was content to listen to Neville and Luna share their stories instead.
"Didn't you see how uncomfortable he was?" Hermione questioned. "Everything has become much more complicated for Draco now that we're back at school; we can't assume that he will want to continue being friends with us."
Harry felt a jolt in his stomach.
"Friends?" Neville echoed disbelievingly.
"Why should where we are make any difference?"
"It is not so much the location as the people, Ron," Hermione explained. "Think about it. Draco hasn't been in contact with any of his Housemates all summer. At your house, or at Grimmauld Place, Draco was surrounded by Gryffindors. Getting along with us was the path of least resistance for him, so it was an easy choice. But now that we're going back to Hogwarts, everything will be different. Draco sleeps in the Slytherin dorm. He eats at the Slytherin table. He attends all of his classes with the Slytherins. He is surrounded by them all the time and if you haven't noticed already, the Slytherins don't like us very much. We shouldn't be surprised if Draco's attitude towards us suddenly changes back to the way it used to be."
"You think it was just an act?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual, as though it didn't really matter to him either way… as though Malfoy wasn't his lifeline and as though Harry wasn't terrified that he would drown without him.
But Hermione saw straight through the façade, as she always did. Her voice was loaded with sympathy. "Oh Harry… I don't think Draco was pretending to care about you. But peer pressure is a powerful thing. The Slytherins in the prefects' carriage were deliberately ostracising him and that has got to be a very difficult thing to live with."
It was. Harry knew that all too well from years of experience in primary school, the incident in first year at Hogwarts when losing 150 House points in one night had turned Gryffindor against them, the time everyone had though he was Slytherin's heir terrorising the school because he spoke Parseltongue, the 'Potter stinks' campaign when he had become the fourth Triwizard Champion, and the beginning of last year when most people had either thought that he was insane or lying for attention. Yeah, he knew what it was like. He couldn't blame Malfoy if he wanted to sever ties with them to save himself from that.
"Well, I guess I should have known that it wouldn't last forever," he said dully, staring down at his hands.
There were a few moments of silence, until a confused Neville spoke up. "Um, could someone please explain what is going on? Since when is Malfoy a friend of yours? Last time I checked, he and Harry were enemies."
Harry didn't say anything, so Ron took it upon himself to explain how Malfoy had refused to join the Death Eaters, sought protection from Dumbledore and wound up at Privet Drive. Correctly assuming that Harry didn't want anyone else to know about the way he had been treated by the Dursleys, Ron focused on the story of Malfoy's transformation.
"He saved your life, Harry?" an incredulous Neville asked once the tale was done.
"And my mum's," Ron affirmed. "Unbelievable, I know, but it's true."
"Wow. I never saw that one coming."
Harry was startled out of his stupor when someone sat down beside him and soft, gentle hands covered his own. "Sometimes people surprise you," Luna said. Harry looked up at her and somehow her smile set him at ease. "Don't give up on Draco just yet." She squeezed lightly and let go; somehow Harry's usual negative reaction to physical contact never had time to kick in, although he did feel a strange, warm pressure in his chest. He was oblivious to the odd look Ron shot him, or Hermione's contemplative expression as she glanced between him and Luna.
The conversation drifted onto other things. Ron not-so-subtly polished the Captain's badge on his chest, leading Neville to exclaim excitedly over it, congratulate him fervently and ask him what his plans were for Quidditch that year. Luna mentioned that she might try out being a commentator for the matches, but she wasn't sure it would be quite as interesting as the hunt for Bogglemumphs, which Hermione promptly scoffed at and resulted in a quibble between them about the existence of such creatures.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Harry stiffened at the tone, even before his eyes flashed up to see who had invaded their compartment. Crabbe and Goyle wore smirks reminiscent of Dudley and his gang before a round of Harry-hunting. His mouth went dry and for a moment his mind spun into panic mode.
Reason swiftly reasserted itself. He had never been scared of those two bullies before and he didn't intend to start now. To convince himself, he stood up and glared at them defiantly. It helped that a quick glance behind them revealed that Draco wasn't with them, which Harry decided to take as a good sign.
"Are you sure it is safe for you two to be in here?" he challenged, infusing his voice with a bit more confidence than he felt. "Don't you remember what happened to you last time?"
"Yeah, we do," Crabbe growled. "And we've decided that it's payback time."
"If you try something, you'll regret it," Harry warned. He shook his sleeve in a slight movement, causing his wand to drop from its wrist holster covertly into his hand. The others in the compartment stood up to support him.
"I don't think so," Goyle retorted. "You see, we've learned a few tricks over the holidays…" Grinning, he and Crabbe whipped out their wands, levelling them at Harry.
"Don't even think about it," Hermione snapped as five wands rose in response.
Crabbe's lip curled into a snarl. "Too late, Mudblood."
He and Goyle spoke simultaneously, "Cruc-"
That they would dare to use an Unforgivable on the Hogwarts Express momentarily stunned the defenders, but it didn't matter; "PROTEGO!" Malfoy's voice yelled, and as a powerful shield shot up before them he appeared out of thin air in a shimmer of silvery material. "That was a mistake," he informed his former cronies.
They whirled on him. "Malfoy!"
"Your powers of observation never cease to astound me," he drawled, surreptitiously slipping the Invisibility Cloak into a pocket of his robes.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Crabbe said sharply, but Goyle smiled cautiously.
"Come to join us, Malfoy? This is your chance to redeem yourself."
Harry's breath caught.
For a long moment, Malfoy gazed levelly at his House mates, twirling his wand in his fingers, his face showing no emotion. Then his gaze shifted briefly to Harry, and when he looked back at them his face was set with determination.
"In their eyes, I already have," he said. A fatalistic smirk twisted his lips. "I'm afraid I no longer care what you and the other Slytherins think of me."
Harry felt a burst of relief and the tension in his friends relaxed at the knowledge that Malfoy was not about to turn traitor on them.
Goyle, however, gaped in shock at the firm pronouncement and Crabbe's face grew thunderous.
"Wrong answer," Crabbe snarled, making a sharp, slashing motion with his wand. "Diffindo!"
Effortlessly, Malfoy deflected the attack. He retaliated with a slew of spells that soon drove Crabbe and Goyle screaming and cussing from the compartment.
Harry stuck his head out of the door to make sure they were actually leaving and saw that a host of other students had done the same to see what all the commotion was about. It didn't take them long to catch sight of Harry and Malfoy standing next to each other and, like fuel being added to a fire, the noise level rose rapidly as visual evidence suddenly lent credence to the rumours that had been flying around.
"Now you've done it, Malfoy," Harry commented, slipping back inside to escape the stares.
Malfoy shrugged, moving to join him and closing the door behind them. "They had it coming."
Harry couldn't argue with that. "You don't mind being seen with us?"
"There is worse company I could keep," he replied offhandedly. Harry could read the faint stress lines in his face that spoke of how tough the decision had been and of his fear of the consequences, but he also saw grim satisfaction.
Harry surveyed the group that surrounded him. At one point, Malfoy would have classed them as a Scar-head, a Mudblood, a Blood Traitor, a Squib and a loon. But he had just chosen this ragtag collection of individuals over purebloods he had been friends with for years, despite the fact that doing so would be the social equivalent of suicide within his House. Maybe, Harry thought, his mouth twitching into a smile, just maybe his trust in Malfoy had not been misplaced after all.
ooOOoo
The rest of the journey to Hogwarts was a truly strange experience for Draco. He had spent all holidays socialising with these people, but somehow, because that time had been spent in unfamiliar locations and he had been largely cut off from the rest of the world, it had felt almost surreal. Here, on the Hogwarts Express, it had suddenly become his new reality. He was actually, willingly, spending time with a bunch of Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw with no other Slytherins in sight… and he was enjoying himself.
Of course, there was a certain level of awkwardness at first. Draco had spent five years being nasty and insulting towards Longbottom – calling him a fat, useless lump and a brainless idiot were only a few of his transgressions against the other boy – and he had never been particularly kind to Lovegood either. In her characteristically odd and somewhat uncomfortable manner, though, Lovegood had stated cheerfully,
"This is awkward, isn't it? After all, Draco has been simply horrid to most of us in the past, especially to you, Neville. But I think chasing off those two big brutes was his way of apologising and asking if we would like to be friends with him now. He never really meant any of it anyway; he was just speaking out of ignorance and trying to gain approval from his House. He's sorry. Right, Draco?" She beamed at him.
A little bewildered, Draco had replied disingenuously, "Er, right. Yeah. Sorry, Longbottom."
Longbottom accepted the apology with greater ease than Draco had expected and it was equally startling to notice how naturally conversation ran between them all afterwards. The friendly atmosphere was so genuine, lacking any of the politics and manoeuvring that had been a constant with the Slytherins. It was a pleasant, refreshing contrast. He couldn't believe how much he had been missing in his relationships before now.
All too soon, the train ride came to an end. Students flooded out of their compartments, luggage and pets in tow, and onto the platform in the typical, chaotic rush. This year had one difference though; many students slowed or even stopped for a few moments outside the compartment where Potter, Draco and the others were sitting to gawk in through the windows.
Draco felt like squirming under their scrutiny, but his upbringing allowed him to maintain a cool exterior and pretend to ignore them. Potter was attempting to do the same, but apparently even years of experience as the Boy Who Lived in The Spotlight hadn't managed to render him immune to the curious gazes of his peers. He shrank back in clear discomfort and stared down at his fidgeting hands.
"Harry, they're not thinking anything bad about you this time, you know," Granger told him.
"Yeah mate," Ron chipped in, "they're just wondering if you really are the Chosen One."
And whether the stories about me are true, Draco thought.
"I guess," Potter sighed, reluctantly getting to his feet and retrieving his trunk from the luggage stash. "We should probably get going before all the carriages are taken."
They made it without too many incidents – aside from a burly fifth year Slytherin roughly shoving Draco out of his way, a bunch of giggling girls forcing Potter to walk through their midst so they could brush up against him, and Lavender Brown batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at Ron as he passed, causing him to miss a step. When they did get there, though, Draco stopped dead, Granger let out a squeak of surprise and Ron stared slack-jawed.
"What?" Potter asked, nonplussed.
Granger lifted a shaking finger to point to the sinister-looking creatures that were hitched up to the carriages. "Th-the-"
"Thestrals," Lovegood filled in for her. "There's no need to be frightened; they're quite harmless. You rode on them last year, remember?"
"They look even creepier than I imagined!" Ron exclaimed.
Potter looked from the skeletal winged horses to his friends. "You guys can all see them now?"
"Yes," Granger answered. "It must be because we saw… ah, because of what happened at the Department of Mysteries."
A shadow passed over Potter's face and he nodded sombrely. "And you?" he asked Draco.
A memory flashed before his mind's eye: a Death Eater with Potter in his grasp twisting awkwardly to deflect the hex Draco had shot at him, losing his balance, tumbling down the stairwell, magic saving Potter but not his assailant, the sickening crunch of his neck snapping, the sprawl of his broken body on the landing.
"The battle at the Burrow," Draco replied simply. He didn't really want to talk about it. He had caused the man's death, however unintentionally, but he had been protecting Potter and if he had to do it over again he would do the same. It wasn't as though the man had been innocent.
Potter grimaced. "Sorry."
"Don't make me give you the 'It's not your fault' speech, Harry," Granger mock-threatened.
"It's a doozy, believe me, mate," Ron said.
Potter smiled faintly. "I'll take your word for it."
They boarded the carriage and allowed the Thestrals to bear them to Hogwarts castle. Lovegood bade the eerie creatures farewell with scratches behind their ears and not long afterward the group walked into the Great Hall. Their entrance did not go unnoticed. What seemed like every eye in the room was on them as they passed through the huge double doors into the light of thousands of candles. Draco couldn't help but notice that almost every Slytherin wore a hostile glare. Thankfully the students from other houses appeared merely curious or thoughtful, however some Gryffindors occasionally shot him a suspicious glance as though wondering if he had an ulterior motive for hanging out with their hero.
Apparently unaware of the attention, Lovegood skipped away happily to the Ravenclaw table. Draco hesitated to split off from the group to join his own House, even though he knew that he didn't have much of a choice.
"Is it a rule that students have to sit at their own House table, Hermione?" Potter asked.
"It isn't written down anywhere," she replied slowly, "but I think it is more of an unspoken rule… No one has ever broken it before, as far as I know."
Draco could see that Potter was disappointed by her answer, probably for his sake. Draco plastered a false smile on his face. "That's okay. I will see you later."
He strode away from them, trying to slip back into the gait of the proud, pompous, self-confident person he had always portrayed to the world. He made for the nearest empty space on a bench, but as he approached the gap was mysteriously filled in. Not skipping a beat, he headed down the table to the next space, but the students there, too, shifted to block him. Blaise Zabini actually laughed in his face and pushed him aside to claim the seat next to Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy's glared daggers prevented him from even attempting to sit near her. It took all of his concentration to keep his ears from burning red with humiliation.
Eventually he was able to take a spot right at the front of the Slytherin table beside the empty spaces that would be filled in by first year students once they were Sorted. He had never sat so close to the teachers before and hated how uncomfortable it made him feel. But there was nothing he could do about it. He had made his choice and this was just one of the consequences. Worse would come, he was sure.
He sat in a numb haze as Dumbledore greeted the school body and the Sorting Hat began its song, although he did absently pick up on how the Hat once again emphasised the need for unity within Hogwarts and wryly thought that trying for it wasn't doing him many favours at the moment. He used to pay attention to the new additions made to Slytherin – determining whether they came from pure enough backgrounds to deserve the honour – but he found he didn't care much anymore. He kept to himself and ate woodenly, no hungrier now than he had been that morning back at Grimmauld Place. His gaze wandered over to the Gryffindor table frequently and for the first time in his life he wished that he had been Sorted differently.
Dumbledore's start-of-term speech was largely a blur of nonsensical sounds. Draco only heard a few random snippets and none of it really sank in except for the fact that Nymphadora Tonks was indeed announced as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; the news drew cheers from Potter and his friends at the Gryffindor table and scowls from Crabbe and Goyle.
"Let us therefore say goodnight," Dumbledore concluded. "Pip pip!"
Draco sighed, ran his fingers back through his hair and pushed the bench back to stand up.
"I think what you're doing is very brave and noble," a voice said, close to his ear.
Startled, he looked around and caught a brief smile from a pretty witch – Astoria Greengrass, he thought her name was – but before he could respond she swiftly disappeared into the throngs of students heading out of the Hall.
Draco felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he wasn't hated by all of the Slytherins after all; it was just that the children of Death Eaters and pureblood fanatics held the balance of power and a sensible Slytherin would not oppose them outright even if they did disagree with them.
He knew he was in the right. He could handle this.
Nevertheless, he hurried to the dungeons, taking a few short cuts he knew to make sure that he arrived first, gave the password and headed straight for his dorm. He noticed that the school books he had ordered were stacked neatly on top of his trunk; he locked them safely inside and added an extra spell to keep them safe from potential vandals. He changed quickly into his bottle-green pyjamas, drew the curtains tightly around his bed and cast powerful wards that would ensure his sleep was undisturbed.
Nerves woke him early the next morning and he slipped out before any of his roommates woke up.
Unfortunately, he knew that avoidance wouldn't work forever.
ooOOoo
