The first time

Harry found that he quite disliked getting fitted for robes. He had been moved quickly towards the back as soon as he walked in, and he no longer had Hagrid's protection. He was scary in his own way, but not as scary as the wizards who gave him strange, searching looks once they saw his scar. He hadn't seen one wizard his age so far, and he was feeling impossibly lonely. The woman who was supposed to fit him had disappeared after putting him in his robe, and he was standing stupidly in a garment way too big for him in a otherwise empty shop. This place was also way too expensive for him, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if he would even be accepted if he didn't have the money from Gringotts.

The door opened and Harry involuntarily flinched away. A boy about the same size as him entered, with a man who could be nothing but his own father for as much as they looked alike. "Where is she?" The boy asked, sounding both annoyed and out of breath. His father behind him looked much more displeased, and Harry was grateful for some reason that they did not seem to see him yet. "She probably has rescheduled, as you have seen it fit to play around instead of coming on time." The man told his son in obvious anger. Harry sympathized with the boy, he too had been obsessed with looking around. The boy amazingly lost all of his attitude, and hung his head. "I'm sorry, father."

The man didn't respond and instead pointed toward the other side of the room, with another large mirror. The boy scampered off to it, but not before noticing Harry at last. Although Harry was curious at what the boy looked like, he looked away quickly, not wanting to cause the boy to say something. He was already fearful of his father. The father nodded at him and told him he'd be back in a hour. Harry didn't know why he blindly trusted that the woman would come back, but the expensive-looking robes on the both of them told him that maybe they expected it. As soon as he left, the boy immediately started talking to Harry, without even turning away from the mirror.

"Where is Madam Malkin anyways? Did she get trapped in all her measuring tape? I've already been fitted, but my father insists I get fitted for school robes. I guess you're here for the same thing." He finally looked back over at him, and Harry noticed from the light on him that he had the blondest hair and greyest eyes he had ever seen. It took Harry a second to realize he was making a joke. Harry laughed shakily, desperate not to push away what could possibly be a friend of his in school. "Are you starting this year?" Harry asked, careful to keep his bangs covering his scar in the mirror. He would find out eventually, but Harry wanted at least one experience without someone knowing who he was.

"Yes, and I hope I get sorted into Slytherin. Best house there is, really. You should hope for it as well. Don't listen to what anyone else tells you about Ravenclaw or the like. Does Gyrffindor have consecutive wins in both House Cups and Quidditch Cups? I didn't think so." The boy seemed to like talking to himself a lot. Harry didn't even know what Quidditch or House Cups meant, but he nodded anyways. He also hadn't put any thought into what house he'd be in. But didn't Hagrid say something about Slytherin? He couldn't remember as the boy went on. "Quidditch? What's that?" Harry interrupted, stuffing his hands into his robes with embarrassment. The boy looked at him weirdly, but went on to explain it.

~.~.~.~.~.

Draco was unable to think of anything else but the boy he had talked to at Madam Malkin's that he had found out after had been the mysterious and powerful Potter boy who had killed You-Know-Who as a child. He hadn't even talked much, but even before he had found out by a comment by Blaise Zabini after boarding the train that 'Harry Potter had the most ridiculous messy black hair' he had been going over the conversation in his head several times. He was regretting being such a coward that he ran off with his father after he returned, not wanting the boy to find out what his family was known for. He was desperate to reinvent what the Malfoy's were about.

His friends Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were obediently trailing him, saying nothing as he walked along the train even as he came across numerous empty compartments. Draco wasn't sure himself why he kept on walking back and forth. He had yet to see Potter yet, but that didn't matter, did it? He clashed heads with numerous blood traitors, complimented other pure bloods, (even if there wasn't much to compliment) and flirted with girls he used to go to Wizard day care with. But he still could not sit down. It was only when he spotted a boy with skewed glasses jump on the train at the last minute, lugging his bags and white owl with him that Draco finally stopped.

He only stopped for a moment though, determined to speak to the boy who was late to the Hogsmeade train before anyone else did and convinced him to join their less-adequate group. Or Merlin forbid, they convince him to become a Gryffindor. He went after him, expecting the boys behind him to follow, and picked up the book that had fallen to the ground before he could. Satisfied that when the boy looked up he was indeed Harry, (A Malfoy's intuition was never wrong) he was confident enough to begin his what now seemed to be a well thought out speech. "You must be Harry. We met at Malkin's. You never told me who you were." Draco hoped he didn't bring up how he left before asking.

"H-Hello, Draco." He was out of breath, which reminded Draco of having to run to Malkin's just to find his father already waiting for him there. He would normally sneer at his inability to regain composure, but now there was nothing but a wide smile on his face. This confused him, as normally he was never this friendly to anyone he attempted to befriend. He decided to look over this later. He held out the book to Harry. He took it, a small smile hesitantly appearing on his face. Then he looked behind him to see Goyle and Crabbe, and his eyes widened. Draco had already heard the insults. That of course Malfoy would hang around his most stupidest, most obedient friends like they were his lapdogs.

He winced. Draco usually also wasn't one to care what other people thought about his company, since they were always better than the company they kept, but foolishly now that seemed to be the one thing he cared about. He held his hand out. "You should come sit with us. Goyle and Crabbe and I are both interested in trying out for Quidditch this year. Don't you want to hang out with people who'll help out? You look like a seeker to me. And you seemed interested in Quidditch when we talked." He was definitely laying it on thick, but Draco was desperate. He could see already boys sticking their head out to watch them. Even Weasley and the Longbottom boy was watching. "Alright." Harry agreed hesitantly, shaking his hand.

TBC -