Disclaimer: *looks in mirror* Nope, my polyjuice potion didn't work, I am not JK Rowling, so I still do not own Harry Potter.

Drowned In Tears

~Chapter 2~

Tension

"Oh, Drakie! There you are!" came a smarmy, adenoidal voice from Draco's left side as he entered the doors of the Great Hall. Cringing at the pet name, he stopped and turned to look down into the puggish smile of Pansy Parkinson. My betrothed, he thought with distaste.

Summoning up his most serpentine smile, Draco said, "Yes, here I am." His voice came out far more patronizing than he'd intended but the girl, as usual, was oblivious.

"I didn't see you on the Express," whined Pansy. "I looked for you but I couldn't find you." She stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout and tilted her freckled face in a futile attempt to gaze up at him coyly.

Clenching his jaw, Draco resisted the urge to slap the young woman just for the effect her voice had on his nerves. Being in no mood for a confrontation, young Malfoy did what Malfoys did best. He lied. "I looked for you, too, but I had a headache and just ended up sitting alone."

"You looked for me?" Pansy's countenance brightened for a moment before darkening with suspicion. "Are you sure? You've been having a lot of headaches lately."

Draco reached into the inner pocket of his robes, feeling around for something he kept for such occasions. "Yes, I really did look for you," he assured her. Locating a velvet box he withdrew it and held it out. "I was really disappointed because I wanted to give you this." The gift had its desired immediate effect.

Pansy squealed, "Oooohhh... for me?" She flipped open the lid and squealed again when she saw the sparkling platinum earrings. "Oooohhh... they're lovely! What do they do?"

"Um..." Draco glanced into the box to check which trinket he'd given her. He kept many such boxes secreted in his robes for bribing away her childish drama. "Oh, those are enchanted to fill your ears with beautiful music that only you can hear."

Standing on her toes, Pansy placed a juicy kiss on Draco's cheek and he grimaced. He hoped she would quickly run off to show off her newest gift to Millicent and the other Slytherin Succubae and leave him in peace. Unfortunately she chose to linger.

"Did you hear, did you hear?" The redhead bounced up and down, jiggling her oversized breasts.

"Did I hear what?" asked Draco distractedly. At least the girl has one good attribute, or should I say TWO?

"We have a new headmaster."

"What?"

"Yes. Dumbledore's gone. I heard he was promoted or something. I can't remember the new one's name." She pointed to the head table where a wizened, sour-looking old wizard sat in Dumbledore's place.

Draco's stomach did a double flip. "Sawney Beane," he whispered, suddenly feeling the need for an early dose of his potion.

"Yes!" Pansy chirped. "That's it!" She looked up into Draco's gray-cast face with a look of concern. "Are you okay, Drakie?"

Putting his hand to his forehead, Draco said, "I think my headache's coming back. I'll, um, be right back... see you at the table." He sauntered off to the lavatory. On his way, the Grey Lady crossed his path. Her filmy form stopped directly before him and stopped.

Turning toward him, she whispered. "I know what you did, Draco." The young Slytherin's body hair stood on end. He swallowed hard. "I know what YOU did," the ghost repeated, pointing accusatorily at him. The room around Draco appeared to swirl as feelings of guilt and regret rose to the surface of his consciousness. With a choking squeal, he ran to the washrooms as fast as he could.

When a refreshed Draco returned a short while later, his robes and hair were slightly damp from the water he'd splashed on his face. He wore a slight smile of potion-induced contentment that only broadened when he saw Pansy sitting amongst her friends with no empty seats near her. Hurrying past before she could notice his return, Draco took the seat that Crabbe and Goyle had saved him. Their idiocy was much more preferable than Pansy's.

After exchanging brief nods of salutations with his cronies, Draco observed Professor McGonagall entering with her procession of first year students. Malfoy rolled his eyes as the ratty old sorting hat began the new song it had composed for the new year.

Tuning the sound out, Draco gazed about him, deliberately keeping his eyes from the new headmaster. Even with the extra dose of potion Beane's presence distressed Draco. Memories best left forgotten pushed at the edges of his mind and suppressed a shudder.

Finding nothing of interest to watch at this own house's table, Draco looked over his shoulder at the Gryffindors. The first thing he noticed was that the rumor was apparently true, as the Golden Trio was not sitting together. Harry was sitting at the end closest to the head table and Parvati (or was it Padma? He never could tell them apart), who had a few sprigs of Heliotrope flowers in her hair, was blatantly flirting with him. At the distant end of the table near the doors, Ron was cuddling with Lavender Brown while simultaneously staring at Hermione with a poisonous glare. Hermione, seated toward the center of the table next to Neville, was reading one of the thin, blue booklets that were at each student's place setting.

Leave it to Granger to read something before she was ordered to do it, thought Draco. It was obvious to him that it was only her outsides that had changed. She was still the same brainy over-achiever on the inside. Beautiful and smart, mused Draco, what an odd combination.  Though it is much preferable to the opposite condition. He stole a glance at Pansy and shuddered. When he turned his focus back to Hermione their eyes met and Draco quickly turned away. Looking up to the sorting ceremony, he was just in time to see a gangly, freckled girl bounce toward the Hufflepuff table to a chorus of polite applause.

Over the years Draco had come to realize how stultifyingly boring the sorting ceremony really was. He and many of his classmates often complained about the idiocy of forcing hungry students to watch a gaggle of eleven-year-olds try on an article of garrulous headwear. No one except the ones being sorted cared anyway, so why couldn't they have their little ritual during the meal?

And these first years... Draco shook his head as he examined the lot, deciding most of them were obviously Mudbloods and Squibs. One young first year caught Draco's attention as the boy looked Squibbier than Neville. He was almost as broad as he was tall, his robes were stained with grease and crumbs, and his doughy, piglet face held a look of utter disdainful stupidity as he looked down his nose at the student body. Draco sneered at the snowfall of dandruff sifting from the boy's greasy brown hair onto the black wool of his robes.

There was something about this new student that aroused a bitter feeling of sadism within Draco (something never far from his surface in any account). He couldn't quite grasp what it was about him, but Draco felt inspired to cause hurt and humiliation to the boy. Pulling out his wand and holding it out under the table, Draco gave it a gentle swish-and-flick. "Insinuatum Gordia," Draco whispered.

The laces of the black oxfords worn by the first year rose as if by their own accord. The tips did a momentary snake dance before entwining multiple times to create an impossibly complex knot.

At that exact moment, McGonagall called out, "Fudge, Packer!" The name caught Draco's attention.

Fudge? As in Cornelius Fudge? wondered Draco as he watched the boy whose shoelaces he just tied together respond to the name. Only the Minister of Magic would name his son Packer. Draco watched in detached amusement as Packer Fudge tried to walk forward and take his turn with the sorting hat. Packer pitched forward with a guttural "Ugh." and the room, already quiet out of respect for the ceremony fell totally silent. The splatter of Packer's blubber colliding with the marble floor was exaggerated in the vacuum of sound. Then, as if on cue, the entire room was engulfed in laughter.

I did that! thought Draco as he sniggered in his typical fashion. Hagrid and Headmaster Beane, two of the very few in the room who were not laughing, rushed forward to assist Professor McGonagall with the floundering boy. For a moment Hagrid had managed to return the overweight child to an upright position, but Packer immediately fell face-first to the ground, this time evidently knocked unconscious. The headmaster mumbled something. Hagrid nodded and tossed Packer over his shoulder to carry the boy from the hall with all the ceremony of a jobber hauling a sack of grain.

The room, having nothing further to laugh at, soon quieted and the sorting ritual continued without further interruption. Once every new student, with the obvious exception of Packer Fudge, was sorted into his or her proper house, Headmaster Sawney Beane arose to say a few words before the start of the feast.

"Dearest students, you may well have noticed by now that an unfamiliar face now sits in this chair."

Beane paused dramatically, just long enough for Crabbe to mutter, "How can a face sit in a chair?"

"Yeah," agreed Goyle, "that makes no sense."

"Will you two shut up?" muttered Draco, already perturbed enough by hearing Beane's voice. He didn't need the added irritation of Crabbe and Goyle acting like fools.

Beane continued, "Our dear Professor Dumbledore has had his long and exalted years of service recognized and he has been elevated to the position of Professor Emeritus. This position will allow Dumbledore to have a much greater hand in the overall administration, welfare, and well being of the wizard world. Unfortunately his new and important tasks will divert him from his headmastery of Hogwarts. Thus, I shall humbly but firmly take the reigns of the day-to-day operations in hand. I would call your attention to the pamphlets and release forms provided to orient you with some of the much-needed changes that are about to be implemented here at Hogwarts. I trust that your full cooperation and enthusiasm can be counted upon. It would certainly be in your best interests. Thank you."

Beane's strange speech was soon forgotten as the sumptuous feast materialized on the tables. As usual, Draco's appetite disappeared when confronted with food. He picked at the perfectly prepared cheese fondue. It had always been a favorite of the young man, and now he was terribly disappointed that it was being served at Hogwarts and his appetite had gone to sleep again. With a wistful sigh he nibbled at a chunk of crusty French bread.

"Oh Great Merlin!" Hermione burst out loud enough to reach the ears of some of those at the Slytherin table. Draco turned around in his seat in hopes of seeing Hermione make a fool of herself; her mealtime antics never failed to amuse him. "Neville, don't sign that!" She jerked the sheet of paper from her classmate's grasp.

Neville looked up fearfully, expecting to be petrified by her again. "What? What did I do?" The young man cringed behind his uplifted hands. He looked around and blushed madly as he saw that all eyes were on him and Hermione.

"You didn't do anything, Neville." Hermione touched him on the shoulder comfortingly and Neville relaxed a bit.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he thought, Granger has the worst taste in bosom companions, I wonder if Neville is next on her list of Things To Do.

Hermione lifted her chin and declared loudly to all within earshot, "Don't sign that form unless you've read the booklet!""

Draco glanced down at his signature on the sheet in alarm then forced himself to relax as he remembered Hermione's disastrous attempts at freeing the house elves. She'd apparently found a new cause to campaign, and judging by her track record this one was most likely as pointless as the last.

Hermione stood and looked into the faces of her listeners. "Listen to this," and she began to read aloud:

"...these punishments may include but are not limited to deduction of points, detentions or other disciplinary actions as is seen fit. Corporal Punishment may be administered as an additional aid in education and discipline at Hogwarts and shall specifically consist of caning or paddling. The cane shall be of any object less than three feet long and less than the thickness of one's thumb. The paddle may only be of the types approved by the Headmaster. Faculty or prefects under the direction of faculty shall administer discipline. Offenses can be punished by immediate administration or delayed administration as investigation and judgment dictate. Any magical or mechanical means used in an attempt to escape punishment or lessen its severity shall result in additional punishment."

Hermione looked up. "This is barbaric! Corporal Punishment was banned over fifty years ago!"

Many students immediately attempted to magically erase their names from the forms, but to no avail as the forms were apparently enchanted. Draco stood and approached Hermione with a grim face.  "Why don't you shut up, Mudblood? Some of us think this is an excellent idea." His voice sounded so earnest the young man almost had himself convinced. Of course the idea of Potter receiving the cane was a rather pleasant one. Even better would be Granger bent over a desk, her little uniform skirt pulled up, fragile white skin welted, bruised…

Draco mentally slapped himself for even thinking such a thing in such intense detail about Granger, of all people.

Hermione looked at him in horrified disbelief. "You won't think so when you are on the receiving end of the cane, Ferret-boy."

Smiling tightly, Draco said, "I'll never be there, but maybe you should be worrying about your own bum." Everyone knew how much trouble the Golden Trio always got themselves into over the course of a given year.

Hermione only laughed and pointed dramatically to the pin on her robe. "Oh, haven't you heard, Malfoy? I'm Head Girl... perhaps it's you who should be worrying." Her eyes held a glint of challenge that only increased Draco's irritation.

Draco raised his eyebrows at her trying not to appear caught off guard by her declaration. He was most embarrassed not to have been in possession of this knowledge. Then it dawned on him; he had not been awarded the Head Boy position. Not that he particularly coveted the office, but he felt he was the boy most deserving of it.  "And who is Head Boy?" Trying to appear unflustered, he pointed at Neville. "Master Squib here?"

Neville, used to such insults, pretended not to hear Draco's words and continued to watch the exchange with interest. Everyone fully expected Hermione to be the next one to turn Draco into a fuzzy animal and abuse him in some way. If there was anyone to do it, it was Hermione.

"Actually I am, Malfoy," came a calm voice from behind Draco.

The blond wizard turned his head to peer coldly into the green eyes of his rival. For a brief instant Draco's expression could be read as saying, Oh Bloody Hell. Only Hermione, whose wide, angry eyes were glued to Draco's face, had noticed it. The young man recovered quickly and was just about to spit out a suitably sarcastic response when Professor Snape interrupted him.

The malicious professor's expression was even sourer than the scent of magical herbs that hung in the air about him. "Already abusing your status as Head Boy, are you Mister Potter?"

Draco smirked at Harry triumphantly.

Harry said nothing, but stood impassively awaiting Snape's inevitable announcement of the number of points that would be deducted from Gryffindor.

After a brief pause Snape continued, "Do not presume that you are immune to the new rules. Remember, Head Boy, you answer to me and I will not think twice about administering discipline should I see you abusing your position here. Do I make myself clear, Mister Potter?"

"Yes. Sir." intoned Harry blandly.

"Good. Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry watched the hems of Snape's robes billowing behind the professor as he exited the Great Hall. "I should be used to that by now." Harry shook his head. Then, turning to Malfoy he said, "Hermione has the right to express how she feels. Why not just leave her be?"

Draco attempted to look down his nose at Harry but failed miserably as both boys stood at exactly the same height. "As do I have that very same right, Potter. However, this conversation bores me and I have other things to attend to. See you at the Prefect's meeting this evening." Turning on his heel, Draco exited the hall.

"May I have your attention please?" Headmaster Beane's magically amplified voice echoed through the Great Hall. "Anyone refusing to sign the acknowledgement forms will be escorted from the grounds. Remember, attendance at Hogwarts is a privilege, not a right!"

All eyes were on Hermione as she approached Sawney Beane. "With all due respect, Headmaster," said Hermione, "I don't think our parents would approve of this sort of thing."

Headmaster Beane's leathery face contorted into a most hideous grin. "For your information all the parents of students here now assembled have consented by owl post and these consents are now sitting in my office. Including one from your parents, Miss Granger."  The dour wizard leaned forward in his seat as if daring Hermione to voice further protest.  Hermione, eyes flashing, said nothing, but neither did she sit down.  The new Headmaster flicked a finger, muttered a word under his breath, and the air fluttered in front of him. A sheet of paper appeared in the headmaster's hand.

"Here, if you don't believe me, is one I have just selected at random.  It is from the Dursleys, regarding their boy here, the celebrated Harry Potter. Our very own Head Boy."  Beane peered over at Harry with a look usually only seen on the faces of Very Large Things just before they eat something smaller.  Harry wore the look of a pole-axed cow, and appeared to be turning a rather attractive shade of chartreuse (if chartreuse were a shade that could be regarded as even remotely flattering when applied to a wizard's face). Later it would be recalled by several students that wisps of vapor escaped the First Boy's ears, and the faint sound of a distant overworked calliope was heard.

In a monotone voice, Beane read the letter from the Dursleys much to the horror of Hermione, who, if she hadn't been such a kind-hearted girl would have enjoyed the height of Harry Potter's humiliation. The young witch's eyes, along with hundreds of others stayed locked on the Boy Who Lived. Harry managed to maintain a certain amount of composure as the ugly words of his only living relatives were read before his schoolmates. It wasn't until the entire student body burst out into uproarious laughter that Harry finally returned to his seat and slumped into it, ashen-faced.

Hermione walked over to lay a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, but he angrily shrugged it off.

*****

The Letter from Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley to Headmaster Beane

Dear Headmaster Beane, Cheers;

It is with great pleasure, I might even say delight, that we received your recent communication (although I will never understand why you people insist sending owls instead of simply using the post like normal folks seem fully able to do).  

In any case, you may be assured you have our complete consent to administer whatever changes in disciplinary policies as you see fit.  I'm certain that nothing could improve the character of my sister-in-law's boy quite like a good thrashing now and again.  You may also as well box his ears and administer kicks to his backside. If that fails then send him to bed in his closet without his supper.

We can only hope that you will be as diligent as we were in molding the boy to be an upright and productive member of society, or whatever passes for society among you people. We are very certain the year he spent under the care of that ex-convict, Surly Belch (or whatever his name was) only served to make him more of a nuisance to society than he already was.

Very Sincerely,

Mr. & Mrs. V. Dursley

*****

Hermione realized it was going to be a very long and interesting year.