A/N: A big thank you to my five reviewers FMA-Fangirl33, Tertius711, Dar Sel'La, Louise Spinster Black, and DS2010. And thank you to the people who favourited and subscribed to this story! If you want to see your name up here, you've gotta review ;)

Since none of you actually expressed a preference for weekly or twice weekly updates, I have decided that beginning with this chapter, I will be updating once a week every Saturday. Not to worry, the chapters are quite lengthy - and this way, you get to really digest the story.

Enjoy Chapter Two!

Chapter Two: A Beginning at Hogwarts

At breakfast the next morning, Harry watched in fascinated horror as Ron appeared to inhale superhuman amounts of food in a manner that Draco would never be caught dead using. The bossy Muggleborn girl sitting across from them — Hermione, her name was — reprimanded him sternly, but Ron had made up his mind to ignore her and paid her no attention. With an angry huff, the bushy-haired girl turned back to her own breakfast. Harry himself ate with gusto, but with considerably more finesse — Narcissa Malfoy was very particular about proper table manners, and she'd made sure Harry had them drilled into his head.

"Hoff 'ou go' 'our 'e'ule yet?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Harry responded automatically. Ron obligingly swallowed before he repeated his question.

"Have you got your schedule yet?"

"Yeah." Harry dipped into his robes and pulled out the parchment. "Looks like we have Transfiguration first, then Herbology…then it's lunch, followed by Charms and History of Magic."

Ron was peeking over Harry's shoulder, too lazy to retrieve his own schedule to review. "Oh, good — we only have Potions on Fridays…" His relief turned to dismay when he read the finer print. "…but it's a double period with Slytherin," he moaned.

"What's wrong with Potions?" inquired Harry.

"Fred and George say Professor Snape is a prejudiced git — and he's even worse when we're having a double class with Slytherins," groaned Ron. "And he loves taking points away from Gryffindor whenever possible, and he assigns ridiculously long essays with ridiculously short deadlines. That class is going to be a nightmare."

"Well, maybe if we read some material before we have to get to class, we might be able to keep up better," suggested Harry.

Ron stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Do work before we have to? Are you mental?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It was just a thought."

"It's a brilliant idea!" Hermione, who had apparently been eavesdropping on the whole conversation, was beaming as she pounced on Harry. "I'm so glad someone else in this school takes studying seriously!"

Harry blinked at her, exchanged a bewildered look with Ron, and decided not to say anything.

A large brown owl flew in through the open window, and Draco nearly spilled his orange juice in his haste to untie the official-looking letter from the bird's foot. With a smug smile of satisfaction, he noted the crest on the envelope and the name of the addressee. He absently fed the owl a bit of toast before it took off again, and then yelled for Harry.

"Oi, Harry!"

The wizard in question shuffled in blearily from the living room, where he'd crept down to sleep the night before in order to be able to receive his expected owl the minute it arrived. Draco had received his owl yesterday, to his delight — but Harry's had been delayed due to the complex circumstances of his living arrangements. Lucius and Narcissa were away until later today, so he'd felt safe spending the night on the couch. Dobby the house elf liked him enough not to tell.

Draco clucked disapprovingly at the sight of him. "Merlin, Harry, it's eleven o'clock!" While he too took the opportunity to sleep in when his parents were not in, Draco abhorred staying in bed past nine-thirty.

All traces of sleepiness in Harry's countenance, however, disappeared as he caught sight of the letter in Draco's hand. He perked up at once and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Is that…"

"Your Hogwarts letter? Yes — bloody hell, Harry!" Draco swore as Harry lunged across the dining room to grab it. The Malfoy heir barely managed to hold it out of reach, a feat aided by the fact that he was a good two inches taller than the other boy.

"Draco, give it here!"

"Not," Draco said firmly, "until you've had some breakfast."

"Aw, come on!"

"Quit whining, Harry. If I let you have this now you'll forget all about eating, and I don't want to hear Mother complaining about how skinny you are. Sit and eat, and then I'll give you your letter."

"That's blackmail," Harry protested. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"You do realise who you're talking to?"

Grumbling about Malfoy malice, Harry rather roughly slid an empty plate towards him and snatched bits of bacon and egg from the main dishes. Draco helpfully added several slices of fruit. Harry glowered at him, regretting for the umpteenth time that the Malfoy scion was just as fanatic about healthy eating as his parents. The Malfoys' insistence on balanced meals was a thorn in Harry's side, as he himself had a bit of a sweet tooth and an unhealthy liking for greasy foods — probably because these were treats he had never been allowed at the Dursleys'. Nevertheless, the promise of his Hogwarts letter was too enticing to resist, and he gobbled up his breakfast with a minimum of fuss, chasing it all with a glass of juice.

"Now can I have my letter?" he asked plaintively. Draco smirked and tossed it to him.

"Hogwarts awaits, Harry."

Harry's first week at Hogwarts passed quite uneventfully. He had been eagerly anticipating his magical education here since Lucius Malfoy first taught him about his wizarding heritage, and he found that he enjoyed most of his classes. History of Magic was an absolute bore, but he'd been warned to expect mind-numbingly sleepy lectures from Professor Binns by Fred and George (even Percy had admitted that Binns's class was not exactly what you could call scintillating), and so far the only subject that had actually disappointed him was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Quirrell stuttered so hard it was almost impossible to understand what he was saying, and most of what he was saying wasn't even practical defensive magic anyway.

"Poor old Quirrell looks like one strong wind would blow him over," Ron remarked as they gratefully escaped the suffocating scent of garlic on Tuesday. "I reckon he's had one too many encounters with the Dark Arts to be completely stable."

Harry was only able to interact sparingly with Draco during the week, and then only in the form of glares and insults on the few occasions when they'd encountered each other in the castle. For the most part, he hardly saw much of his foster brother. In the absence of his first and best friend, Harry was making other friends within his House — mainly within his own dormitory. Hermione he tried to stay away from because she was a bossy know-it-all, but he took pity on shy Neville Longbottom and made sure to be nice to him. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were another pair of girls Harry preferred not to spend too much time with, because their giggling and gossip annoyed him — and he hardly ever saw Fay Dunbar, Rionach O'Neal, Sophie Roper, or Lily Moon, the other four Gryffindor girls in his year. He liked Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan reasonably well, but he didn't yet know a lot about them. He thought Prefect Percy was a stick-in-the-mud, but he found Fred and George tremendous fun. However, his strongest bond by far was with Ron, though — as he'd suspected — the redhead viciously disliked Draco, as did all his brothers. In fact, the vast majority of Gryffindor Tower hated 'that Malfoy git' with a passion — something which Harry pretended to partake in, though in reality he was dying to tell them all to shove it because they didn't know the real Draco.

All in all, though, he was settling in very well; and on top of the gratitude he already bore them for taking him in, he now had a newfound thankfulness to the Malfoys for teaching him about the wizarding world for the past four years — Harry was certain that if he'd remained with the Dursleys he would find all this impossible to learn.

With the arrival of Friday came the first Potions lesson of the term, and Harry felt both dread and excitement as he and the other Gryffindors marched to the dungeons for class. This would be the first time he'd be spending any substantial amount of time in Draco's presence with other people around, as well as the first time he'd be seeing Snape anywhere besides at meals. On one hand, he was glad that he would at least be around familiar people he had known for years (he was somewhat happier about Draco than Snape), who both would know that whatever went on between them in public was not genuine — and maybe he'd even be able to steal a few friendly glances with Draco when no one was looking. On the other hand, having a full class with both Snape and Draco present meant that they would more than likely — scratch that, they would definitely — have to stage some rather nasty interactions in order to set the tone for their pseudo-enmity. Harry knew from personal experience how brutal Snape's cutting tongue could be — and without the man's dry, sardonic humour to soften the blow, Harry was fully expecting to be squirming in his seat within the first half-hour.

Sure enough, the minute Snape swept into the dungeon, the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Harry had barely turned to look at the man before Snape started talking.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class." Snape's gaze was impassive and indifferent as he stared round at the first-years. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making; however, for those select few who possess the predisposition…"

Snape was making it a point to glance at Draco, Harry was sure. He narrowly avoided scowling at the unfairness of it all. Ron was right — Potions was going to be a nightmare.

Snape was still speaking. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death…that is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

All these words sounded very impressive to Harry, who had never heard Snape in a formal classroom setting before, and he dutifully wrote them all down. When he realised no one else was writing anything, he groaned inwardly. Oh, well, he thought glumly, might as well get a head start on our horrible relationship.

He was not disappointed. He felt Snape's poisonous glare on him before he'd finished writing.

"Then again," said Snape, his voice dripping with disdain, "maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough…to not pay attention."

Hermione nudged him in annoyance, and Harry stopped writing to see Snape advancing menacingly towards him. He barely held back a gulp — the man truly was a frightening demon, act or no act.

"Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity." Oh yeah, Snape was laying it on thick. Harry had a hard time reminding himself that the hook-nosed professor didn't actually hate him. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry blanched. Trust Snape to think up a question he couldn't answer. Beside him, Hermione's hand shot up, but Snape ignored her.

Harry wordlessly shook his head; Snape needed no further prompting. "You don't know? Well, let's try again — where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

Again, Hermione's hand jumped up, and again, Harry had no idea. He knew what the thing was (sort of) but not where to find it. "I don't know, sir."

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Wait, he knew this! "They're the same thing, sir," Harry stated confidently.

"And another name for it is?"

Harry nearly groaned. Of course the Potions Master wouldn't have given him a question he could answer without leading to another question he couldn't. That was positively Slytherin. With a sidelong glance at Hermione, whose arm would probably be extra long by the end of this class, a daring thought came into his head. Why not? In for a penny…

"I don't know, sir," Harry said innocently. "I think Hermione does, though — why don't you ask her?"

The entire class sucked in a sharp breath at his brazenness. Snape's face twisted into a frightful frown.

"Put your hand down, Miss Granger," he snapped. "For your information, Mr. Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat that will cure most poisons. And monkshood or wolfsbane is also known as aconite. Well?" he demanded, glaring around at everyone (except Draco). "Why aren't you writing all this down?"

Everyone scrambled for parchment and quills, and in the ensuing flurry of activity Harry saw Snape give him an imperceptible nod of approval, which filled him with relief. Snape was a terrifyingly good actor.

"And a point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter."

Harry was sure he heard Draco sniggering.

The day after Harry's eleventh birthday, Snape Floo'd to Malfoy Manor and briefly wished Harry a belated birthday in his usual curt manner. Harry grinned in response, well-used to the Potions Master's acerbic behaviour. The grin fell from his face when Lucius instructed him and Draco to sit in the living room with the adults. Harry turned to Draco with a panicked expression.

"What did we do this time?" he asked in trepidation.

"I didn't do anything, did you?" Draco shot back.

"No! At least, nothing I can think of…who says it's not you?"

"Stop it, Harry, you're making me nervous," Draco snapped.

"You're not in trouble," Narcissa said from behind them, with a hint of amusement. "However, we do need to discuss something serious with you. Shall we?" She gestured towards the entrance to the living room.

Silently, both boys followed her inside. Lucius and Severus were already seated, and not without anxiety, Harry and Draco lowered themselves onto the couch. Lucius took one look at them and scoffed.

"There's no need to look so scared, boys — you're not being scolded."

"Then…what's this about?" Harry inquired cautiously.

"We need to talk to you about Hogwarts."

"What about it?" Draco asked in confusion, looking from Lucius to Snape to Narcissa.

Lucius exchanged a glance with Severus; he seemed to be holding a silent conversation with the other man before he spoke again. "Draco, Harry, how would you describe your relationship?"

Both boys blinked, thrown by the bizarre question.

"We're…friends?" Draco offered hesitantly, unsure what the correct answer was.

Harry, of course, had no such qualms. "Best friends," he agreed. "Almost like brothers, wouldn't you say?" He looked at Draco with a grin.

"If you say so." Draco was fooling no one — even Snape, who rarely spent time with the boys, knew that Draco had come to consider Harry practically family.

"Indeed," the professor drawled, "you are both on very good terms with each other. However, once you are at Hogwarts, you can no longer be friends."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, while Draco looked stricken.

"Listen to me, Draco, Potter," said Snape. "It is imperative for your safety that you do not let on you know each other. In fact, it's better if you pretend to be mortal enemies, in order to keep up appearances."

"What appearances?" demanded Harry. "I don't understand."

"Harry," interjected Narcissa, "you know that no one outside this room is aware that you've been living here for the last four years." Harry nodded. "As far as Dumbledore is concerned, you are still with your Muggle relatives in Surrey. This is the first reason you and Draco cannot reveal you are friends."

"But I thought Dumbledore was good," Harry protested. "You said he leads the side of Light against Voldemort, right?" All three Malfoys cringed automatically, and Snape glared at Harry. For some strange reason, it freaked everyone out when Harry called Voldemort by name.

"Dumbledore is against the Dark Lord," Lucius allowed after a pause, "but he is far from perfect. He believed he was protecting you by placing you with your aunt and uncle, but clearly, this was not the case. We're not sure yet what his plans are for you, and until we do, it's best to let him believe everything is still as he thinks it should be."

"Yes, we want to keep Dumbledore in the dark for as long as possible, but this is not the most important reason," Snape stressed. "The Dark Lord will return one day, Potter, and when he does, you will be his number one target. If anyone were to find out that the Malfoys have assumed your guardianship — however unofficially — it would put them in deadly danger."

Harry squirmed. He knew he was supposed to fight and defeat Voldemort one day, or the entire wizarding world was doomed. Lucius had tried not to scare him too much when he told him this, but Snape had been ruthlessly blunt in his explanation of some prophecy he had heard about Harry and Voldemort. Harry also knew that Lucius and Severus had been Dead Munchers (or something like that) in Voldemort's service, but had become disillusioned with his violent methods and were no longer loyal to him even before Harry had somehow defeated him as a baby. Both men appeared to think that Voldemort would return one day, and they wanted to keep the Malfoy family safe for as long as possible by pretending that their allegiance still belonged to him.

Obviously, this meant that no one could know the Mafoys had taken Harry in, or that Draco was Harry's friend, because all the Malfoys — and Snape — were supposed to hate the Boy Who Lived.

Harry caught Draco's eye, and the blond boy nodded. They both knew what they had to do.

"Okay," Harry agreed. "How do we pretend to be enemies?"

"Wow, Snape really has it out for you," Ron said sympathetically as they trudged out of Potions. "What'd you do to him?"

"Nothing." Harry sighed. "He hates me, and I don't know why."

"Cheer up, mate. If Fred and George are to be believed, he's always been an evil, greasy-haired git." Ron threw a sidelong glance at the Slytherins ahead of them. "And of course," he said loudly, "with Malfoy around, he's bound to show favouritism."

Draco heard, of course; Harry and Ron saw the blond's back stiffen before he spun around to glare at Ron. "What are you trying to imply, Weasel?"

"Nothing but the truth," Ron retorted. "I mean, since Snape and your dear old dad were such great friends in You-Know-Who's Inner Circle…"

Draco was up in Ron's face in an instant — he seemed to have to physically restrain himself from grabbing the redhead's robes. "Take that back," he snarled. "Don't you dare insult my father."

Ron snorted in disgust. "Can't take what you dish out, Malfoy?"

"Ron, let's not do this…" Harry tugged at Ron's robes, hoping not to get into a fight now. He was astonished when Draco snapped at him.

"Stay out of this, Potter!"

Harry blinked, hurt, but Draco wasn't looking at him. By now a small crowd had gathered, as Gryffindors and Slytherins alike hovered in the corridor, curious about the altercation.

"My father is a very powerful man," Draco said coldly to Ron. "I'd suggest you keep your mouth shut if you don't want to find out what he can do to blood traitors like your family."

Ron flushed angrily and raised his hand as if to strike the other boy. "Why, you —"

"Weasley!"

Ron's hand dropped at once; Draco looked smug as Snape came out of the classroom, his frown thunderous.

"What are you doing?" the Potions professor demanded.

"He was about to hit me, sir," Draco said helpfully before Ron could speak. Ron shot him a nasty scowl.

"No fighting in the corridors, Weasley. Five points from Gryffindor," Snape almost purred.

"That's not fair!" Harry burst out. "Malfoy was threatening him!"

Snape fixed Harry with a glare that sent chills down his back. "Did I ask for your opinion, Mr. Potter?"

"No, but —"

"Five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn," Snape said immediately. As Harry spluttered in indignation, he lifted his coal black eyes to observe the loitering students, who of course all tried to look as if they weren't the slightest bit interested in what was going on. "Don't you have classes to get to?" he asked pointedly, and everyone scurried away instantly.

Harry tried to catch Draco's eye as the latter left, but Draco didn't look at him.

"Potter, why are you still here?"

Harry took one look at Snape's sneering face and fled with Ron before he could deduct more points.

"We can't even sit in the same compartment on the train?" Harry asked in horror. It was September the 1st, and Narcissa was telling him how to get onto the Hogwarts Express. The Malfoys, of course, were not going to accompany Harry to King's Cross — he was going to take Muggle transportation just as he would if he were still living with the Dursleys, and would have to make his own way to the platform.

"No, Harry," she said regretfully. "It's not a good idea for you and Draco to associate with each other, even on the train. You certainly won't have a compartment to yourselves."

"Besides," Lucius interjected from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet, "you ought to take this opportunity to make other friends."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Must they all be purebloods?" He was well aware of Lucius's views on blood status, and he didn't agree with them — though the elder Malfoy had learned to be slightly more accepting of Muggleborns than many pureblood wizards, he still believed in pureblood supremacy.

Lucius lowered his paper and sighed. "They need not be," he conceded. "While I have my own reasons to dislike Muggles, you are free to form your own opinions. No doubt having grown up around Muggles, you're less inclined to distrust them."

"After what his Muggle relatives did to him?" Draco scoffed.

"Not all Muggles are like them," protested Harry. "The Dursleys' neighbour, Mrs. Figg, always used to smile at me when they weren't looking."

"Arabella Figg is a Squib, Harry," Lucius informed him.

"She is?" Harry exclaimed. "Oh. Well, still…not all Muggles are as nasty as the Dursleys."

"We will agree to disagree," Lucius said diplomatically as he folded his paper. This was what he always said whenever this argument arose.

After a slight pause (which was less uncomfortable than it might have been), Narcissa asked, "Harry, do you remember how to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?"

"Walk into the pillar between Platforms Nine and Ten," he confirmed, nodding. "I was wondering if maybe I should pretend not to know how to get there? I mean, if I lived with Muggles I wouldn't know, right?"

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to ask a wizard you see if you're so inclined," Lucius agreed. "It's not necessary, however."

"I'll drop by your compartment when we're on the train," Draco offered. "Just don't take anything I say at face value."

"Remember to find Vincent and Gregory, Draco," Lucius reminded him.

Draco made a face at the thought of the two large morons Lucius had said he should hang around for his cover. Crabbe and Goyle were not his idea of good companions, but Lucius had pointed out that as their fathers had been Death Eaters, it was only logical that Draco, as a fellow Death Eater's son, should socialise with them.

Half an hour later, Harry walked to the nearest Muggle train station and took a train to King's Cross, where he fortuitously bumped into a flock of Weasleys.

Harry kept quiet while Ron complained bitterly about Malfoy and Snape to the rest of Gryffindor Tower; word had spread that Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy had almost come to blows right under Professor Snape's nose, and even students who hadn't been there wanted to know what the confrontation was about. Fred and George both congratulated their brother for insulting Malfoy so well, and even Prefect Percy refrained from scolding Ron about picking a fight in the corridors when he heard what Malfoy had said.

"At least have the sense to do it somewhere Professor Snape won't notice," was all he grumbled about.

"Harry was brilliant, though!" Ron said with a grin at his new friend. "He basically told Snape to stuff it when the greasy bat stole points off me."

"Did you really, Harry?" Neville, who had been in the Hospital Wing being treated for boils at the time of the incident, was awed at the brunet's courage in standing up to the Potions Professor.

"Er, no, not really," hedged Harry. "All I did was tell Snape that Malfoy was threatening Ron."

"Don't be so modest, Harry!" Dean, who had witnessed the whole thing firsthand with Seamus, said with a laugh. "You totally stood up for Ron."

"A true Gryffindor," Seamus agreed happily.

Harry shifted, uncomfortable with the attention, and muttered something about homework before he moved away from the circle of Gryffindor boys who were listening raptly to Ron's (highly exaggerated) retelling. It was only later, while he was trying to go to sleep, that Harry realised just why he felt so uneasy.

Draco hadn't been pretending when he confronted Ron.

A/N: Something to note: while these early chapters might be rather slow-going and/or seem to be a general rehash of canon, I promise you it picks up and things start to diverge more obviously around Chapter Five. This is just the groundwork - but I will still happily accept anything you'd like to say about it.

Till next Saturday!