Chapter 7: First day Nerves, Annoyances, and Sides

All too soon nighttime slipped away, making room for the morning that charged right in. Bright-impossibly, annoyingly bright-rays from the too-bright sun slipped through the curtains of their windows, hitting him right in the eyes.

Damn sunlight. Grumbling, Draco turned over to the other side, away from the windows. His hand sought out for his favorite pillow, feeling nothing but the cool sheets. Surprised, he popped one eye opened, then the other.

Harry wasn't there.

He looked up and saw his friend leaving the bathroom, already dressed in his uniform.

"Rise and shine, Draco."

If he wasn't so dead, Draco would have thrown a pillow at his head to knock that stupid, knowing smile off his friend's face. He had to settle with a half-hearted death glare, too tired to put his full effort in.

Harry wasn't fazed by the look, used to the glares Draco shot when they had to get up. He walked over and tapped him on the leg. "Up and outta."

"No," he moaned, grabbing the pillow and covering his head. "No morning, no sunshine. Want sleep."

"You know Uncle Severus will have both our heads if we're late to class."

While that may be true, it still wasn't enough to persuade him to leave his bed, especially when it felt too warm and cozy. Harry decided to use a different tactic.

Underneath the sheets, Draco heard the whisk of the wand and the murmured chant, but refused to look up. It wasn't until he felt the blankets and pillows pushing forward, entangling around his body, lifting him up from the bed that he began to wake up.

Alarmed, he lifted his head and saw that he was five feet above the ground. He looked over to Harry, wand out, with a smirk on his face that would make the founder of Slytherin proud.

"You wouldn't dare." Draco warned him.

Harry's sweet smile was all Draco saw before he was dropped. Thankfully he had two pillows that softened the impact of his fall.

"Goddamn git!" he cursed, getting himself off the ground.

"And you're a prat," Harry answered. "Now that we went over two well-known facts, let's go over another one. It's seven in the morning, meaning we only have an hour to get breakfast before class starts. And knowing you with your grooming obsessions, you'll take that long to get ready."

"At least I know how to properly groom myself, Potter." He eyed the messy black locks too wild for even his best combs to manage.

Rolling his eyes, Harry lifted Draco up by his armpits and walked him over to the bathroom, pushing him inside. "Just try not to use up all the hot water, prat."

"Git." Draco cried before Harry closed the door.

As annoyed as Draco was at his friend for his idea of a wake-up call, along with the fact his bum was still sore from the fall, he couldn't say that it wasn't necessary. Harry was right. He was in the bathroom for over half an hour, and that was just to fix his hair.

When he finally reemerged, Harry handed him his bag. Other than a smirk, he didn't say anything. A wise move since a smart mouth would have cost him a bruised arm.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Of course."

On the way to the Great Hall, steps faltered and heads turned as they passed. Eyes were drawn to them, more-so on Harry. Draco knew that it wasn't just because of his celebrity-status.

"Is it true?"

"I was right there. The hat actually shouted Slytherin."

"The teachers were shocked," a second-year Ravenclaw whispered to a Hufflepuff, her eyes fixed on Harry. "Even Professor Snape. I heard his jaw almost dropped."

He wouldn't go as far to say that, but Draco did know for a fact Severus was stunned by the sorting. After he had given the first-years a speech on House-unity, he came to their room to tell him how pleased he was to have them both under his house. For him, Draco knew it was only inevitable. But for Harry, Severus confessed that he was sure that McGonagall would be watching over him.

Harry had shrugged and answered that growing up with three guardians who have been sorted into Slytherin, some of the traits seemed to have rubbed off on them. But today Harry was looking a bit anxious about the sorting, ducking his head to avoid the wide-eyed stares, looking like he wanted to disappear.

"Just ignore them," Draco told him. "They're insects."

He got a small smile in return, one that widened as Draco linked his arm through his as they continued with their walk, both with their heads held high.

Their friends already secured them a spot at the table.

"About time," Blaise said. "I was starting to wonder if we wouldn't see you till class."

"You know Draco," Harry said as they sat down. "He loves to take care of his hair. One strand at a time."

Draco lightly punched him in the arm. "Ha-bloody-ha, Potter. You're a comedian."

"Now that we've established that Draco spends a lot of time in the bathroom," Pansy smirked at the glare he shot her. "Schedules, people. We need to see what we have."

They had one class with the Hufflepuffs, two with Ravenclaw, and, to Draco's annoyance, three with the Gryfinndorks, including Potions.

"Great." Draco murmured.

"It won't be all that bad, Draco." Harry said.

"They're Gryfinndors, Harry. It will be bad."

"How bad could it possibly be?"

He glanced over at the table, where the lions were living up to their house mascot, acting rowdy and loud. Yogurt was slipping from the corners of one boy's lips as he was talking to his friends, clearly not a master of multi-tasking. Weasley was trying to stuff several things into his agape mouth, giving people an unwanted view of his chewed-up breakfast. Granger was looking at them, at Harry.

A smile spread across the girl's face when Harry looked her way, widening as Harry returned her smile with a soft one of his own.

Bad, Draco decided. Very bad. He sent her a glare so harsh, it could peel the paint off the portraits.

Their first class was Transfiguration with McGonagall. The class was standard set with dozens of desks fitted for two, tall bookshelves, and a gray-striped cat lying on the desk.

"Think that's McGonagall?" Harry asked as they walked in.

Without question. Draco nodded.

They set themselves at the front of the class while their friends occupied the first few seats around them.

Five minutes later, quills were taken out and notes were being written down, copied from the black board.

Another five minutes later, a student burst into the classroom.

"Thank Merlin," Wealsey gasped, taking in a gulp of air, as he hunched over, the palms of his hands slapping his knees. He was flustered and sweaty. "Made it."

"Are you sure about that, Mr. Weasley?" The cat stretched out her front paws before she leaped off the table. By the time her feet touched the ground, Professor McGonagall stood in front of them, eyes glaring down at the late-comer.

"That was bloody brilliant," Weasley said, amazed.

"Why thank you, Mr. Weasley," she said. "I can already see this class will be purposeful for you. I'll be sure to teach you how to transform even a mere pencil into a watch since it's clear time seems to slip from you. Unless you think you're already a master on the subject that you felt the need to come to class ten minutes late."

The weasel flinched. "It wasn't my fault, Ma'am," he stammered. "Really, it wasn't. I just overslept and couldn't find my-"

"Mr. Weasley, your excuses are a waste of valuable breath. And you are wasting valuable classtime with your excuses. I do not appreciate time being wasted or foolishness. Let today be a lesson for you. Next time I won't be so generous. Now have a seat."

Weasley's brush with embarrassment was the only interesting thing that happened in class. At first it seemed that Transfiguration would be promising when McGonagall turned her desk into a pig and then back again, stirring excitement within the class. She quickly killed that excitement when she told them that it would take months, possibly a year, before they learned something that complex. They spent most of class writing down notes.

Towards the end of class she had given them each a match and instructed them to change it into a needle.

The only thing that Draco managed to do with his match was put out the small flame his magic lit up. Harry had better luck, able to change the color into silver, but it still wasn't a needle.

"A little more practice, Mr. Potter, and you should be able to do the spell with ease."

"Professor," Granger called, three tables down. "Is this right?"

Granger's match wasn't a needle per say but she was able to turn it silver and give it a sharp end.

"Well done, Ms. Granger. Five points to Gryfinndor."

Granger beamed so wide, Draco was surprised that her face didn't spilt. It would have been a vast improvement to the original.

Teacher's pet.

The rest of the week continued as such, them waking up early, meeting friends for a quick breakfast, then heading off to class.

Twice a week, Slytherins were paired with the Ravenclaws for Astronomy, a class Draco found easy since Mother has been teaching him about the stars since he was four.

History of Magic was about as exciting as it sounded and then less, taught by a ghost instead of a live teacher. Professor Binns, rumored to been around when Hogwarts was first built, thought that going over every aspect of magic, reciting every last fact and detail, was the best way for students to learn. A method that probably wouldn't be so bad if he didn't drone on and on about silly details that weren't worth the ink, and had a drawl in his raspy voice that lulled the students to dreamland.

Blaise was usually out after five minutes, Crabbe and Goyle then two minutes after. Pansy looked over magazines with Daphne Greengrass. Millie shot spit-balls at the back of Hufflepuffs' heads. Harry and Theo read their books while he either worked on a letter for his parents or reviewed for another class.

"I gotta say," Blaise stretched out his arms after they were dismissed. "That class isn't half-bad."

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. "That's only because you love your beauty sleep. I could hear your snoring."

"That was Blaise sleeping?" Harry asked. "I thought that it was a wild stampede."

They couldn't contain themselves, barely holding onto their snickers. Blaise glared at them, and punched Harry in the arm.

"Come off it, Potter. I know for a good fact you like to catch up on your bedtime stories in that class."

"At least I do it quietly."

"Sadly the same can't be said for you, Zabini." Theo smirked.

Blaise punched his arm for that comment.

For charms, Professor Flitwick kept things interesting with his enthusiasm that matched that of a Hufflepuff. He wasn't stern compared to the other teachers, and seemed to let anything go in his class.

McGonagall, though, was stern, using the first week of class for notes, notes, and more notes. By the end of the week, the sight of ink nearly made Draco's stomach churn.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was interesting, but not in the way Charms was and different from the way they all thought it would be. It was a class everyone was looking forward, but turned out to be a joke, thanks to the teacher teaching them. Professor Quirrel was said to be skillful with spells and charms that ward off the supernatural. Draco remembered hearing from the upperclassmen that over a year ago, the man was able to fend off half a dozen vampires in Romania with a broken wand. It seemed though that very fight was too much for the man to handle, turning him into a jumpy, stuttering mess. Instead teaching them spells to ward off vampires and werewolves, he seemed to have taken a page off Professor Binn's lesson-plan in reciting facts about the history of not only magic, but the creatures of the supernatural.

"This is the man Dumbledore thought would be better-suited to teach us about the dark arts?" A stuttering, pathetic man who trembled at the sight of his own shadow? As opposed to Uncle Severus?

Harry shrugged, looking at the man with pity as he stammered through a tale of how garlic was believed to be a weakness against vampires.

Draco was never happier to see Friday come. Not only because it was the start of the weekend, but because they only had one class to attend, one of were which his favorites.

Potions.

Though there was a sour note to it. It was a double-session of Potions with the Gryffindors.

The class took place in the dungeons. Two steps inside, and a person was instantly cold. Professor Snape kept the room at a low temperature to preserve the potion ingredients. The Slytherins were already used to the cold since their dorms weren't that much warmer, but for the Gryffindors it was like stepping into a different world. Draco had seen several of them cast heating charms onto their hands they rubbed vigorously.

Poor suckers.

Uncle Severus made his presence known with a loud bang to the door, casting a locking spell behind him, marching to the front of the class, his black robes billowing out.

He saw that Gryffindor Longbottom sink into his seat, terrified.

After taking down attendance, Severus folded his arms across his face and looked at them with those dark, black eyes that were bottomless and cold.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in a low whisper, but each word rang with perfect clarity. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate powers of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-if you aren't as big as the dunderheads I usually have to teach."

Silence followed the speech. Some students looked nervous, some looked sick, and others like Granger looked like they were ready to prove themselves. Draco had no such worries nor did Harry. Severus has been teaching them potions since they were seven with the same razor-sharp edge and words they grew used to.

He nudged his friend, sharing a smile with him.

"Longbottom," Professor called out. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Granger's hand shot in the air, but the girl was wasting her time. It was the boy the man wanted.

"Um…um…."

"Sometime this century, Longbottom."

"I, uh, don't know, sir." At least Longbottom was smart enough to admit it than drag it out.

Too bad for him, Severus wasn't soften by the confession. "Did the thought of review cross your mind before you came to class, boy?"

The boy's face reddened, his eyes wet with tears.

Harry looked at him with pity.

"Potter, perhaps you can show the class why it is important to review. What would I get if I mix the two?"

"Draught of Living Death, sir." Harry answered.

"Five points to Slytherin for being prepared. Now can you explain, Potter, what the draught does? Perhaps in simpler terms so certain students," His eyes cut to Longbottom. "can understand it."

"Basically, it puts a person under a long, deep sleep, sir."

Snickering, Weasley elbowed the boy next to him. "Maybe that what's Binns' cologne is made of."

"Weasley," The boy flinched at his name. "Since you're in a chatty mood, perhaps you can answer this question. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Oh, um, well…" he said. "You'd look…into your cabinets."

Idiot.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being unprepared."

"But-"

"Ten points."

"That's not-"

"You already cost your house fifteen points, Weasley, in a matter of seconds. Do you wish to make it twenty?"

The boy who had been laughing with Weasley elbowed him hard.

He had done so to keep Weasley from losing them more points. Too bad for him, his action got the opposite reaction.

"Twenty-five from Gryffindor."

"That's not-"

"Shut up, Ron."

"Mr. Malfoy," Skipping over Granger who was waving her hand wildly, Severus turned to him. "Perhaps you can enlighten the class."

Sending a smirk to Granger who looked as if she sucked a sour lemon, he answered "You find it in the stomach of a goat."

"Five points to Slytherin."

After a series of questions, Slytherins earning more house-points, Gryffindors losing points, Severus called for them to partner up and to set up a potion to cure boils. Harry went to the cabinets to get the supplies while Draco already started firing the cauldron.

Harry cut up the ingredients equally and precisely before handing them over to Draco, who placed them carefully into the cauldron, stirring clockwise then counterclockwise, making sure there was a good amount of time between each stir. After all one last stir, Draco watched as the bubbles dissolved into the smooth material, changing into a bright lilac color.

"Ten points to Slytherin."

Grinning, the two celebrated their success with a high-five.

"It's unfortunate that your classmates seem to struggle with simple instructions."

Longbottom was shaking as he looked over at his crusty mix that was a nasty shade of pale pink. He grabbed a handful of porcupine quills he would have thrown into the mix if Harry hadn't stopped him, gently putting his hand down.

"Don't put too many," Harry warned him. "Otherwise it might explode. Then you'll be stuck with boils for a week."

Longbottom looked just as shocked as Draco was by the surprising help. Unlike Draco, though, the boy looked more so relieved. "Thanks. I'm not that great with potions."

"It's not so bad," Harry smiled gently. "You just have to review the material before class."

"Thanks. I'm Neville."

Harry accepted the boy's hand with ease, unaware of the envy-eyed, blonde-haired monster staring down at the boy. "I'm Harry."

Neville smiled.

Another name was added to Draco's list of least-liked.

While Longbottom managed to avoid getting himself boiled, his potion still wasn't good enough to pass Snape's inspection. Most of the students' cauldrons contained black, muddy tar that deepened the scowl of the professor's face. Granger's potion was close to passable, but not enough. Hers came out a bluish-purple and was still bubbling even after she turned off the fire.

"Care to explain yourself, Ms. Granger?"

"I swear, Professor, this isn't my fault. I did everything the book said. I followed all the instructions."

Poor, stupid girl. She was going to have to learn the books weren't always right.

"And you, Weasley?" Severus turned over to the girl's partner. "Your input?"

"Well-I-I tried to tell her that she didn't need to stir so much, but she didn't listen-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for inadequate team work."

I knew there was a reason why I liked Fridays, Draco thought, his irritation with Longbottom and the handshake momentarily forgotten. Potions was already a favorite subject of his, but now with Severus bashing the Gryffindors he knew this class would be entertaining.

Severus dismissed them, assigning them five chapters to review, informing the students he expected a seven-page paper on his desk first thing Monday morning.

"Malfoy, Potter, stay. I have something to discuss with you."

"Maybe he's going to see if Harry can make Malfoy into an actual human being?" Weasley whispered to Longbottom.

"Weasley, you already cost your house sixty-five points with your cheek. Do you care to make it an even seventy?"

The boy couldn't run out of the room fast enough.

Draco snickered, watching him.

When the last student left, Severus spelled the door shut and silent, gesturing for the two boys to come up to his desk.

"I'm pleased to see that you two managed to follow simple instructions. Perhaps there is hope for your class after all."

Draco wasn't sure if those words applied to all kids in their grade, but he knew that Slytherin was secured. He and Harry were a great team, able to balance each other out, managing to earn the house more than fifty points in today's class alone.

"And I'm also pleased to see that the castle is still in one piece after you've settled in," He looked at them pointedly, getting innocent smiles in return. "Should I expect that to change in the near future?"

Draco and Harry looked at each other, their smiles widening. Harry shrugged innocently. Draco's smile was cheeky as he replied to the question.

"Should it come down to that," Trading another look with Harry, he answered. "Thank Merlin for repairing spells."

"And camouflage spells." Harry added.

"And oblivating spells."

"And-"

"If another word comes out of either of your mouth, snakes or not, you will be serving detention."

The boys dissolved into laughter.

Severus rolled his eyes. "And Narcissa actually wonders why I detest the idea of marriage and children."

"Come on, Uncle Severus," Harry smiled innocently. "We're perfect, exemplary angels. Aren't we, Draco?"

"Absolutely," Draco slung his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Perfectly angelic."

"Perfectly demonic is more like it," The boys already lost themselves into laughter again, quickly composing themselves as Severus hit them with a warning glare. "Moving on. I'm pleased to hear that you're doing well in your classes. Lucius and Narcissa are as well, and expect to receive a letter from both of you before Sunday."

Shoot. He knew there was something he was he forgotten to do. And given the slight widening of Harry's eyes, he saw the idea also slipped his mind, too.

"And before I forget," Severus reached into his robes and pulled out a white, golden-sealed envelope he passed over to Harry. "Dumbledore asked me to give you this. He requests your presence after dinner. And only Harry." His eyes glared pointedly at Draco.

Draco, on the other hand, glared at the envelope with contempt, half-tempted by the idea of mixing it into their potion. Or throwing it in the fire. Fire always worked better. "He's not going."

"It's probably nothing, Draco." Harry argued.

"Then there's no reason for you to see him."

Harry rolled his eyes.


Despite Draco's less than warm feelings towards the man, or the Old Goat as he liked to call him, after dinner Harry walked over to the headmaster's office. With his bodyguard by his side.

"You know you don't have to walk me there."

"And you know you don't have to go."

"He sent me an invitation for tea, Draco. It was practically a summon."

"Details."

Annoyed, Harry rolled his eyes, choosing not to push the matter anymore. It was sometimes better to let Draco have the last word.

"Have I mentioned how much I don't like this?"

'Course that method usually worked if Draco was done talking about said-matter. "About a dozen times since we left dinner."

"And yet you refuse to listen to me?"

"Draco, for the sake of Merlin, it's just a quick chat. What's the worst he could possibly do?"

"Plenty."

Draco was scowling but not at him. He focused his hard glare at the ground, avoiding Harry's eyes. As hard as those eyes were, as tight as his scowl was, Harry detected the slight trace of vulnerability that slipped through the boy's cool mask.

A twinge shot through Harry's chest, dissolving his anger almost instantly, causing him to reach out and link his arm through Draco's. Draco looked up, confused. Harry sent him a smile, one which was slowly returned.

Dumbledore wasn't in his office but he did leave a note telling the young boy to entertain himself while he was there. Harry did just that, eyeing the books practically spilling from the bookshelves, the portraits that smiled and chatted with him for a few minutes, and the artifacts placed around the room including a beautiful, ruby-encrusted sword kept in a glass case.

But what really fascinated him was the beautiful red bird with fiery feathers and brown tips perched on the headmaster's chair, staring at Harry with those dark eyes.

"Wow."

The bird whined softly under its breath as he ruffled his feathers.

It kept its eyes locked on Harry as he took slow steps toward him, offering him his finger. The bird sniffed his skin, but accepted it. When Harry was close enough, the bird moved from the chair over to his hand.

"You're a pretty bird." Harry cooed, stroking its head.

"I must say I'm impressed. Fawkes is rarely taken by guests."

"Oh," He turned. Dumbledore entered the room, a smile turning his face, his eyes twinkling. "Professor Dumbledore, I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's quite alright, my boy. Besides it seems like you made yourself a new friend."

Fawkes screeched, as if he were agreeing.

Dumbledore directed them over to the corner of his office where two chairs were drawn to a maple coffee table already set with a steaming kettle-pot, two tea cups, and a plate of sugar cookies.

"May I pour you a cup?"

"Please," Harry smiled. Dumbledore poured, dropping two sugar cubes in, and set the cup on a saucer before he handed it to Harry. He took a small sip. The taste of honey-lemon hit his tongue. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," After pouring himself a cup, Dumbledore helped himself to a cookie. "How have you been, my boy?"

"Good, sir, and yourself?"

"Very well, thank you. So far the school year is looking very promising. Students seem to be settling in nicely. And I'm hearing very good things regarding the first-years, including yourself. Professor McGonagall was telling me that you already show a talent in Transfiguration."

Harry beamed with pride. While he was good at Potions and did enjoyed it, even under the watch of his sharp-tongued uncle, he wasn't passionate about it like Draco was. His passion laid in Transfiguration, and Quidditch. "It's an interesting class, sir."

"And you're proving to be a very interesting boy, Harry. You made quite the impression all before your first day."

"Well…" His cheeks warmed.

"I have to say, my boy, we were all quite surprised. Both your parents were among the finest students to attend this school. And already I can see you possess your mother's compassion."

"How do you-" Dumbledore smiled at him with ease.

"I saw how you were with some of the students during the sorting. You were very encouraging, which was just what they needed. And apparently in Potions class your advice to Mr. Longbottom prevented a grave accident from occurring."

"Oh."

Harry didn't know any other way to reply. He understood Dumbledore's shock. He understood everyone's shock. His parents made a name for themselves in the Gryffindor house, his dad for his pranks, his mom for her intelligence. Moony had sent him a letter, saying he believed Harry would make a name for himself there as well.

Gryffindor was a good house. He heard enough stories from his dad and Moony about the fun they had and the trouble they got themselves into, barely escaping by the skim of their nose. He knew he would be fine there but…

A familiar blonde with cool, gray eyes and a smirk crossed his mind.

Almost as if Dumbledore could read his mind, he settled into his chair and asked "You are quite close to Mr. Malfoy, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. "He's my best friend."

"And he was sorted into Slytherin, a house every member of his family has been sorted into since the school's early days. A house known for the sly and cunning."

Unsure of the direction the conversation was going, and if he liked the secretive tone that crept into the man's voice, Harry nodded.

"Understandable one would want to follow the same path a friend leads. It is important to stay united."

Harry nodded again.

"However as understandable as it may be, as safe as it appears, it's also good for one to choose a path that's more suited for them."

Harry felt his smile wavering. "I'm afraid I'm not following, sir."

"It's simply surprising. A Potter, the first one in centuries, to be in Slytherin. That very same Potter close to a Malfoy."

Now Harry was sure that he didn't like where this conversation was going. "Perhaps it all comes down to a matter of one's opinion."

Dumbledore smiled but his left brow arched slightly. "I can see Lucius has taken you under his wing."

Harry chose to keep quiet.

"How is he, by the way?"

Harry couldn't stop the frown that crossed his face. "I'm not sure how you mean, sir. How is he as a teacher? How is he as a guardian?"

"Both."

"He was stern but fair. He tutored both Draco and I in different subjects before we came here, so we would be prepared."

"Was he hard?"

"A bit." Harry admitted.

"I can imagine that you two must have butted heads often during the debate when the topic turned to a very clashing issue."

As in, when the topic turned to the muggle-side. Harry was a bit hesitant in answering, but decided to in the end. It would only appear bad if he didn't say anything. "Uncle Lucius has his opinions. I have mine," He shrugged. "He may not like them most of the time, but he always told us that it's good Draco and I form ideas of our own instead of blindly following that of another's."

"Wise words." Dumbledore poured himself another cup of tea.

Harry shook his head when he offered him one.

"How is he as a guardian? He treats you well?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Narcissa? I trust she believes in the same philosophy."

"Yes, sir. Aunt Narcissa believes there's more than one side in terms of life," Though the man hadn't asked the same question, Harry still added, "She's an amazing woman, Headmaster. One of the greatest I know. She treats me like one of her own."

Dumbledore took a small sip of his tea. "Mr. Malfoy, from what I've seen and hear, is shaping out to be like his father."

Now Harry knew for sure that this conversation was heading in a very wrong direction.

"Draco can have his moments, Headmaster," Harry said. "But he is a good person. All the Malfoys are. Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa have been kind to me. And Draco has always been there for me."

"I didn't mean to rifle you, my boy. I was simply making sure that your sorting was done by you, and not influenced by outside sources."

Perhaps most of the Slytherin traits have rubbed off on him during the four years he lived in the manor. He definitely could say for sure Draco was a influence, talking him into ideas that were bound to get them into trouble but still went along with because they were too good to resist. But in the end, his sorting was his decision, and he chose the house where he wanted to be.

"You are a bright boy, Harry. Bright, kind, and I can already see you'll be a promising student. Promising as you are loyal. However as loyal as you to current friends, it's also not a bad idea to seek out new ones. Venture out, widen your horizons."

Dumbledore's words followed Harry Saturday night as he skimmed through the library's shelves in search of a book Theo recommended to him.

It was no secret that Dumbledore trusted the Malfoys as much as they trusted him, which was less than little. Harry still remembered how stunned the Headmaster was when Aunt Cissa was named as his guardian. He remembered the small conversation he had with Uncle Lucius that quickly went from chilly to downright cold in a matter of seconds.

In some aspects Harry knew it had to do with their ideals. The Malfoys, particularly his uncle, believed in the strict exclusion of the wizarding world while Dumbledore believed it should be opened too all, including the muggle-borns. But he knew there was more to the tension then that. He just wasn't sure what.

He asked Uncle Severus one time, and the man had told him it was nothing that should concern him. Harry knew the man was holding back, hiding something, but chose to let it go.

Now he couldn't help but think about it.

A burning sensation shot through his scar, and he rubbed against it, his fingers tracing the outline of the lightening-bolt.

"You know that they say if one stays still for a long time, they become frozen."

Harry turned around. Hermione approached him, several books held close to her chest. "I thought that only applied to faces."

"Well, they usually do," she said. "But there is also a high chance it can happen to a person's entire body if they're still for too long."

Harry smiled her, then looked down at the books she was carrying. He recognized the titles as works from the muggle-world. When he told her so, asking which author was her favorite, the girl looked speechless.

"My mother was a muggle-born witch," he explained. "She wanted me to grow up knowing how both the wizarding world and muggle-world worked."

Hermione was stunned, but did smile. "I have to say you're different from most wizards."

"How did you expect wizards to be?"

"Well after the train, I thought most would be would be like your brother."

His brother? "You mean Draco?" Hermione nodded. Harry frowned slightly, confused. "He's not my brother."

"He's not?" The girl frowned. "Well you two certainly are close. He barely leaves your side. I'm surprised that he's actually not here with you."

"We've always been close," Harry said, unsure how he felt about the brother comment, choosing to push it aside. "Since we were kids. He's my best friend."

"Seems overly possessive for a friend."

He knew she was more so making an observation than trying to offend. It was a similar thought that came across his mind more than once over the years, but even so the word sounded off, almost wrong when Hermione said it. "Draco's just…Draco. He can be a little…" It was hard to think of the right word to describe the boy altogether. "Headstrong."

"Rude is more like it," Hermione said. "He could learn to be a little less of it."

"And you could learn to be a little less of a know-it-all, Granger."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Draco strode towards them, standing by Harry's right. His eyes were anything but warm as they looked at the girl.

Hermione returned the look with a dark one of her own.

Sensing the tension that thickened the air, Harry stood in front of his friend, blocking Hermione from his view. "Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were with Blaise and Theo."

"Blaise decided it would be fun to take a nap. Theo decided to annoy Pansy. I looked for you in the room. You weren't there."

There was an accusation in his words, one Harry chose to ignore. "I left you a note."

"Must not have seen it."

"Or chose not to." Hermione mumbled in a not-quiet tone.

Draco glared at her.

"It's fine," Harry placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, redirecting his attention. "I was going to head to the Hall for some dinner. Care to join me?"

Draco smiled at him. "I have a better idea. I'll get one of the house-elves to bring some food to our room."

"Alright," He could always come back for the book another day. He turned around to give Hermione a smile. "I'll see you around?"

She nodded with a smile. Harry walked towards the exit. He was close to five steps in when he realized he wasn't hearing footsteps behind it. He turned back. Draco was still standing at the same spot.

"You go ahead," he told him. "I'll catch up."

Harry glanced at him, then Hermione, and back at Draco. He wasn't sure if going ahead was a wise decision, but decided that the two couldn't do much damage in a public place. Especially when Madame Prince was there, ready to toss out anyone who even mishandled a book.

"Okay. I'll see you."

Draco kept the smile on his face as he waved to his friend. As soon as Harry was gone from sight, he turned over to the muggle-born witch, his smile dropping to a snarl.

"Stay the hell away from him, Granger, if you know what's good for you!"

The girl looked shocked by the order, though not as much as she was mad. "You're his best friend, Draco, not his keeper. Harry is free to be friends with anyone he wants. You don't owe him."

Who did this girl think she was? To think she had the right to say his given name, like they were equals? To question their friendship? To say that Harry wasn't his when in fact he was?

"And as his best friend, Granger," Draco spat out the name with unmasked distaste. "It's my job to make sure that he doesn't associate himself with certain people."

"You mean people other than pure-bloods? Someone below your stature?" Granger challenged.

Draco smirked at her. "I know you were a smart girl. Annoying, but smart."

Hermione huffed and made sure to elbow him as she went on her way, but before she left she turned back to say this to Draco.

"Before I was introduced to the magical subjects, I had a few favorites from my world. Calculus was one of them. The problems played with the mind and took hours to solve, but I loved it. And I think I came across one question that's more complicated than any Calculus problem," She looked at him over her shoulder. "What on earth would possess a nice, sweet boy like Harry to be friends with someone nasty and arrogant as you?"

The little-

"How he tolerates you, I have no idea. I only hope Harry realizes he can do better though. Much better."

Fuming, Draco took out his wand and aimed a stinging hex at the girl, missing his target by only two inches.

Wench.

Granger got marked herself down of the top-five in his list.

Hey guys. Hope you like the chapter. I was unsure about this one; seemed a bit weak to me. Nevertheless, please tell me what you think. And if you have suggestions, please tell me. I'm opened to ideas. I wanna thank you guys for reading. Also, while you're here, check out some of my other Drarry stories. I'm sure you'll like them. Until next time. Au revior ;)