Chapter Five
Draco was so happy. He'd been happy at home and before arriving to Hogwarts, of course, but those moments paled in comparison to the life he had in school, where he woke every morning ready for another day filled with excitement and action.
When he stepped off the Hogwarts Express, he could barely suppress the nervous excitement that filled every inch of him. While the rest of the student body filed into cars, he and the first-years stepped into a cluster of little boats which carried them across a moat to arrive at the Hogwarts castle, their home for the next seven years. Disembarking once they reached the other side, they stepped through the massive doors and into the great hall lit brilliantly by massive chandeliers and ringing with the welcome applause of the rest of the school which had arrived earlier. It was time to be sorted into the Houses. The first-years formed a line in the middle of the hall alphabetically, and one by one, the Headmaster announced their names and Houses.
What if Draco didn't get into Slytherin? A little curl of fear twisted his stomach. His friends were going to be in Slytherin. Father and Mother were both in Slytherin. Everyone he knew was in Slytherin. What if he was sorted into Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff, or even Gryffindor?
When his name was called, Draco straightened. The whole school was watching, and he refused to make a poor first impression. He must make Father proud. Draco squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and stepped to the base of the podium, the lazy smile on his face masking his nervousness.
"Malfoy, Draco. Slytherin!" Headmaster announced.
Despite himself, Draco beamed. He never should have worried, and couldn't wait to write to Father and Mother to tell them the excellent news. He made his way over to the Slytherin table where after a round of shaking hands and congratulations, found himself a seat to watch the rest of the procession.
Soon after, Pansy was sorted into Slytherin as well, where she sat next to him looking absolutely delighted. Draco was about to return the grin, but his smile faded. Harry Potter stepped up to the podium, his face determined but his green eyes flickered about anxiously.
"Potter, Harry. Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table roared in approval, and Potter relaxed visibly, beaming as he joined his friends. Everybody reached over to shake his hand, to welcome and congratulate him, and after thanking them graciously, took a seat at the section where the plump blond boy and the girl with the bushy hair sat. As the school's attention turned to the next first-year being sorted, Draco found his gaze lingering. Harry had saved an empty seat beside him, no doubt for Weasley who was still in line to be sorted.
Draco told himself that it was for the best. Even from this small interaction, Harry seemed to fit in quite well with the Gryffindors. But despite himself, a part of Draco still wished that Harry was sorted into Slytherin, and that it was he who sat beside him.
"Zabini, Blaise. Slytherin!"
Blaise's name was the last to be called, and Draco and Pansy cheered the loudest of them all. Blaise hurried over to where they were, sitting next to Draco, his face flushed and looking tremendously pleased. As servants wheeled in platters of food and as the feasting began, Draco threw his arms around his two best friends, who laughed in delight. Who needed Potter anyway? Pansy and Blaise was everything he imagined!
Well, perhaps not quite everything.
It started the next morning, when they met up at the great hall for breakfast. Pansy only had a few slices of fruit on her plate, but Millicent Bulstrode, who sat opposite to her, was tucking happily into a pile of pancakes.
"Are you going to finish all that?" Pansy asked sharply.
Millicent looked up, startled, but nodded.
Pansy sighed in disappointment and bit elegantly into a strawberry. "Darling, do you want a boyfriend? If you do, I'd advise you to show some… restraint."
Millicent looked horrified. Then, she burst into tears and ran from the hall.
Draco stared at Pansy, stunned. He wasn't alone. Everybody in a five-meter radius was staring at her in shock.
"Sorry, but that's the truth!" she exclaimed, defending herself. She turned to Draco. "Boys don't like fat girls, right?"
"R-right," Draco stammered.
"Problem solved!" her tone was light and playful, but her eyes glared at anyone who dared challenge her final word. Shrugging, everyone turned back to their breakfast, though quite a few girls who had been eating normally stopped and began picking at their food instead.
When Draco first met her, she was funny and witty, her hilarious jokes and fiery personality making her the most likeable person he'd ever met. But he never realized that she could also be cruel. Should he tell her that what she said wasn't very kind? He glanced at her again. She had finished her fruit and was now playing with the necklaces around her throat. Seeing that she was being watched, she caught Draco's eye and winked playfully. His doubts vanished. Girls would be girls, right? He heard Mother say some rather vicious things about her friends during weekend brunches as well. Pansy was no different, though perhaps a little more direct. Regardless, she was his friend, and if it made her happy, it was fine. It was none of his business to stop her from doing what she liked.
They headed to Math next. Draco was an excellent student for the most part, but the one subject he found challenging was Math. Halfway through the class, worksheets were passed around and they were asked to complete the questions listed. It didn't take long for Draco to run into a problem he had no idea how to do.
"Blaise," Draco whispered. "Do you know how to do question number two?"
Blaise didn't respond from where he sat next to him. He was hunched over his work, his pencil scribbling about.
"Blaise," Draco said, his voice a little louder. Maybe he didn't hear him the first time. "Can you help me with question two?"
Blaise's pencil stopped. A flush was creeping up his cheeks. He definitely heard him. But he still didn't move.
"Come on," Draco was starting to get annoyed. "Can I at least see-"
"Ten points from Slytherin!" Professor Vector trilled. "It'll be twenty the next time I catch you speaking!"
The class snickered, and Draco felt his face burn. Turning away, he kept his head low and tried to finish the worksheet on his own.
After class, he caught Blaise in the hallway.
"Why didn't you help me?" Draco demanded angrily. "You heard me! You could have helped!"
Blaise looked to the side. He seemed impassive, indifferent. "I didn't want to."
"Why not?" Draco was hurt.
Blaise shrugged. Without another word, he turned and vanished down the hallway.
When Draco first met Blaise, he was silent and thoughtful. Even if he didn't speak very much, he was always attentive, immersed in the conversation and definitely the most charming person Draco had ever met. However, what he didn't realize was how cold Blaise could be, that he'd so uncaringly turn down a friend who needed help. But that was alright. Whenever Draco asked Father for help, he'd dismiss him and tell him to ask the tutors instead. Maybe Blaise was the same; he disliked being asked questions too. Draco didn't want to lose him as a friend, and decided to never disturb him with pesky questions again.
Pansy and Blaise were both incredible people, but they were far from perfect. Pansy's barbed jokes and prickling insults were mostly directed towards others, but as time passed, even Draco found himself occasionally at the other end of a snide comment. Blaise was prideful and aloof, gliding through the halls looking down his nose on everybody he passed, and if he wanted to be left alone in a conversation, would stare off into the distance in such a way that the person he was talking to would have better luck getting a mannequin to respond. If Pansy and Blaise were Draco's only friends, he might have despaired, but it was fortunate that Draco wasn't alone.
"Malfoy?" "Draco Malfoy?" "The Malfoys?"
It wasn't only the Slytherins that whispered this, but also students from other Houses as well. Within the first week, nearly a quarter of the school had come up to introduce themselves, and Draco found himself constantly surrounded by people. Students from higher years offered to help him with his homework. First-years fought each other to have the honor of sitting the closest to him during mealtimes, and whenever he spoke, hung onto every word he said. Even if Pansy and Blaise weren't there with him, he could choose from over fifty eager faces for who to be his 'best friends' for that day.
It was a little strange, initially, to constantly be in the center of attention, but Draco grew to adore it. He knew that the Malfoys were a very wealthy and influential family, and the reason why people clustered around him was probably because of his last name. However, the crowds showed no signs of diminishing after a month, and slowly, Draco believed that it must have been more that kept them there. He was clever. He was funny. He learned that a few cruel jokes here and there kept people entertained. He knew that maintaining an air of frosty aloofness to incite awe and respect. Admittedly, his family name was what drew people to him, but his personality was surely what caused everyone to stay.
One morning, he was at the Slytherin table with Pansy and Blaise sitting beside him. He made a joke, a particularly barbed one about Hagrid the groundskeeper's accent, and the table roared with laughter. He grinned, adoring the way a few chuckles were even heard from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, and how the first-years sitting next to him repeated the jokes to each other for a quick giggle.
Then, from across the hall, he caught a flash of familiar green eyes. He glanced up, and saw Harry watching him, his fists clenched on the table and looking absolutely furious. Right. Potter was friends with the groundskeeper. It was only thanks to his friends holding tightly onto his arms that kept him from storming across the hall to punch Draco in the face, though they themselves looked ready to do the same.
For a moment, Draco felt a flicker of guilt. But that passed so quickly it was as if it had never been there to begin with. He had offered Potter his friendship, and it was his fault for turning it down to be friends with Ron Weasley, whose family was so poor they could hardly afford his school fees, and Hermione Granger, that insufferable know-it-all. If Potter had made the right decision, he would have been sitting next to Draco at the most popular table in Hogwarts and laughing with delight rather than sulking in a corner!
Draco sneered pointedly at him, and Potter turned crimson. The Slytherin table turned towards the Gryffindor table, snickering and jeering. Looking furious, Potter, Weasley, and Granger stormed from the hall, chased by mocking laughter. Draco felt nothing but satisfaction. He was the most popular student in Hogwarts. He had the best friends anyone could ask for. He was happy.
Draco headed home for Christmas. He spent nearly an hour at the Hogwarts platform saying goodbyes to his friends who remained at school, and throughout the entire ride to King's Cross Station, said his farewells to those who were heading home for the holidays as well. When he arrived at the station, the first thing he saw was Mother standing there, dressed resplendently in a black fur coat and beaming like the sun.
"Darling!" Mother embraced him and kissed him loudly on both cheeks.
Draco stumbled back, wiping his face with his sleeve, and protested, "Not in front of my friends, Mother!" but there was no real anger in his voice. He had missed her dearly too.
"Of course," Mother laughed. "You're all grown up now!"
Draco grinned sheepishly. He waved goodbye to his friends, who waved in return, and headed towards the exit. Porters hurried behind them, bearing his luggage. They stepped into a limousine, the warmth of the interior chasing away the frosty December wind. Draco settled contentedly into Mother's arms, his head leaning comfortably against her shoulder, but he hesitated. "Where's Father?"
"He's in a meeting right now," she sighed disappointedly. "I reminded him constantly to leave today free, but Mr. Riddle called, and nobody could possibly turn that man down. I'm sure he'll be free by dinner, and we can have a lovely Christmas meal as a family!"
Draco nodded. Father was a busy man. It was alright that he didn't make it to the station to welcome him home.
When Draco left Hogwarts, the castle radiated warmth and comfort, the windows glowing with golden light that illuminated the extravagantly-decorated Christmas trees on its grounds. The hallways were bedecked in streamers and decorations, bursting with hues of red, gold, and green, and the air was constantly filled with off-key carols. They arrived at the Malfoy Manor, and stepping out of the car, Draco shivered involuntarily. Other than a layer of snow on the rooftops, the Malfoy Manor looked the same, a looming grey mansion that blended in with the slate colored sky, the windows lifeless and empty. Christmas decorations had been strung up across the grounds, but the coldness seemed to leech the colors from the baubles and wreaths, and a light layer of frost that covered everything in a dusting of white made the Manor seem even more isolated.
He stepped through the entrance and entered the living room. Other than a few flickering embers in the fireplace, there was no other source of color in the black and white décor. He stepped down the halls. Portraits of his ancestors and distant relatives glared coldly at him while he passed, as if judging him for how loudly his footsteps rang down the silent corridor.
He arrived at his room. It was just as he left it. His bed of cold silk sheets, his desk gleaming, his shelves with its books and trinkets neatly arranged, and miscellaneous belongings tucked away in neat containers. In the past, he wouldn't have batted an eye, but after Hogwarts… it seemed too pristine. Too cold. Too empty. Draco knew that he should be grateful and happy to be home, but a little part of him longed for the warmth and companionship that waited for him at Hogwarts.
Father came home for dinner, and Draco made sure to look impeccable. His shirt was freshly ironed, his black shoes polished to a shine, and he had the servants style his hair slicked back just like Father's. When he stepped downstairs to the Dining Room, Mother looked absolutely delighted, stating that she had never seen a more handsome young man. However, Father barely glanced up from his tablet, a distracted grunt his only acknowledgement.
Dinner was served. Servants came in bearing appetizers of stuffed mushrooms, egg rolls, and petits-fours. Father switched his tablet for his phone. Main courses came next, hams dripping with glaze, roasted chickens fragrant with rosemary, and mouthwatering ratatouille. Father began a heated call with someone called Dolohov, even stepping out of the room for a moment to finish discussing matters.
Through it all, Mother tried her best. She asked Draco about school, about his friends, about his classes. Draco answered them enthusiastically enough, but despite Mother's best efforts, the lack of Father's presence was undeniable. Despite himself, Draco felt a pang of anxiety. Why wasn't Father talking to him? Was he upset at him? Did he say or do something wrong?
It wasn't until Draco was nearly done with his treacle tart when Father finally looked up at him.
"I saw the rankings of the first-year exams," Father said. His voice was cold. "You scored second in your class. Why weren't you first?"
Of course. That must have been it.
"I'm sorry, Father." Draco hung his head. "I tried my best."
"Your best clearly wasn't enough," Father picked up his phone again. "I expect to see your name at the top next semester. Did I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Father."
That night, Draco tossed and turned in bed, sick with shame. He promised that he wouldn't let Father down, but that was exactly what he did. He failed to have the best grades in his class, and Father had every right to be disappointed in him. A part of him vowed to work harder, to score better, and to make Father proud. But at the same time, another part of him wished that he wasn't in the Manor, eating a silent dinner and being criticized for his grades, and longed to be in Hogwarts laughing with his friends instead.