Let me make you smile
Let me do a few tricks
Some old and then some new tricks
I'm very versatile
"Owl if you need anything," Narcissa said in between the multitude of kisses she was planting all over Draco's face. "I'll be sending some sweets as soon as we get back to the Manor…please write all the time, my darling!"
Lucius, however, characteristically didn't share his wife's enthusiasm for his son's well being. "Stop embarrassing yourself, my dear," he remarked coolly, pulling her back by the shoulder from Draco. "Our son is quite old enough to make his own way in life."
Draco resisted the urge to snort incredulously, but gave into the temptation to look down at his father's left forearm, covered in the finest materials but truly concealing nothing from anyone who had any idea of the wizarding world. Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater by day…also Death Eater by night. Lucius' eyes bore coldly into Draco's when he noticed where his son was looking. "You'll miss the train," he said quietly.
"Yes, Father." Draco let a house-elf push his cart towards the luggage compartment and began to walk towards the train when his father's voice rang out behind him.
"There's that nice Harry Potter. Sit with him, Draco, he looks lonely."
Draco didn't turn around, and sat by himself.
* * *
"You ought to have seen her face, Malfoy," guffawed Goyle, grinning stupidly at Draco from the other side of the compartment. "The Mudblood nearly had a fit. 'I am Head Girl here!'"
Draco scowled. "That has got to be the worst impression I've ever heard of anyone, much less Granger." He was visibly angry that his two goons found him so quickly, he'd been hoping for at least a half hour of deep pondering about this Potter situation. He certainly couldn't go about it like he went about his other conquests; Potter was probably into more than sex. He probably liked to cuddle and hold hands. Draco inwardly groaned and shook his head.
Crabbe and Goyle continued laughing at whatever idiotic prank they had pulled, ignorant of Draco's want for them to be anywhere but there. "I mean," wheezed Crabbe. "She and the Weasel were so mad, they locked themselves in a compartment alone."
"I don't even want to know what they're doing!" bellowed Goyle, dissolving into fits of laughter.
"But whatever it is, Potter isn't invited!"
Draco's head snapped up. "Potter is alone?"
"Yeah," answered Crabbe, reaching over and helping himself to a Pumpkin Pasty. "Mudblood and Weasel didn't seem very interested in him, more in each other. He's in the second compartment from the front of the train."
Goyle shoved two Chocolate Frogs in his mouth at once. "People tell me that he's been in a bad way recently. One of the Creevey brats let it slip to Finnigan that he tried to kill himself over the summer."
"You're lying," exclaimed Draco, his eyes wide. "The Golden Boy trying to end his life?"
Mouth still full of frog, Goyle nodded and made slashing motions towards his left wrist with his right hand. "Tried to do himself in," he said, after swallowing. "I overhead Finnigan telling Thomas at the platform. Too bad Weasel found him before he snuffed it, eh, Malfoy?"
Mind spinning with these new facts, Draco stood up. "I'm going to patrol the corridors," he said numbly. "I'll be back later. DON'T follow me," he added sharply when the two other boys started to get up and walk towards the door. Draco was about to close the door behind him when he stuck his head back into the compartment. "What exactly did you two do to Granger and Weasley?"
"Oh!" Crabbe cried out, laughing again. "Goyle goes, 'Hey Granger, look over there' and she did, and there was nothing there!"
Draco stared at the two boys cracking themselves up. "I weep for the future," he said blandly before shutting the compartment door behind him.
* * *
Potter? Of all people? Trying to kill himself? The savior of the wizarding world? Everyone adored him; he was the Headmaster's favourite boy, star Quidditch player. Easily the most popular boy at Hogwarts, excluding Draco of course. The blond Slytherin wracked his brain as he patrolled the corridors, docking points from first years but not really enjoying it as much as he normally would. This disturbing news about Potter really was unnerving. Of course, the rumour mill could have always been wrong, it had been in the past. But never about something like this.
"Malfoy," a voice drawled from a compartment. "I've been waiting to see you."
Sighing, Draco peered into the compartment to see Flinch-Leftly making eyes at him. "What do you want, Flinch-Occasionally?" Draco spat at him venomously. He wanted to get to Potter now, while he knew for certain he was alone.
The Hufflepuff blinked. "Um…I'm sorry. But it's Finch-Fletchley. Justin Finch-Fletchley." He looked positively shaken that Malfoy had forgotten his name. (Draco was convinced he had never known it in the first place.) He stood up and tugged on Draco's robes to get him into the compartment, skillfully shutting the door behind him. "It's been the longest summer of my life," he moaned, slipping a hand into Draco's open robes.
Startled, Draco shoved him away roughly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Justin stumbled back and blinked at Draco confusedly. "I'm…I'm ravishing you. You told me before the holiday that you liked being ravished." He put the stupid grin back on his face and proceeded towards Draco again, pinning the blond against the wall before he could react. "Come on, Draco…"
"I dismissed you months ago!" Draco yelped, attempting to shove him off. "You were discharged in May of being my whore! Get off me, Finch-Fletchley!"
"At least you got my name right," purred Justin, burying his face into Draco's neck. "We're definitely moving forward." His finger began to undo the clasps on Draco's robes.
Draco struggled and cursed and swore, and his hand tried in vain to snatch his wand out. "I swear, you tosser, when I get my hands on you—"
"I can hardly wait!" Justin giggled. "Come on, Draco, you said you liked it this way—"
"I MEAN IT!" Draco genuinely felt scared now; the train was loud enough that people wouldn't hear his screams. There was no way he was going to start his final year at Hogwarts by getting non-conned by a fucking Hufflepuff! "GET OFF ME, FINCH-RAPIST!" He screamed so loud he didn't hear the compartment door open. He was flailing his arms so much he didn't see the holly and phoenix feather wand, eleven inches, being raised. And his ragged breaths from pushing Justin away drowned out the voice of Harry Potter.
"IMPEDIMENTIA!"
Justin flew back against the seats in the compartment, and immediately howled in pain as his head connected sharply with the windowsill to his right. As he clutched the back of his skull, he glared up at the doorway. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" he screamed.
"POTTER?" Draco turned incredulously towards the doorway, and indeed, there was the Boy Who Lived, his wand still pointed angrily at Justin. Potter certainly didn't look like he had the previous year. If possible, he'd lost more weight, and his violent green eyes were hovering above dark circles. His messy hair was even more unkempt than usual, and his glasses, most often repaired by Hermione, were crooked and had what looked like a tiny piece of spellotape holding one of the earpieces on. But what Draco noticed the most about him was his demeanor. Potter had become an angry, angry boy. He looked at Finch-Fletchley with a mixture of hate and disgust; Draco had seen the look on Death-Eaters who were ready to kill. The hand Potter used to hold the wand was up, and his robe was slightly pushed back from it. Draco unmistakably saw part of a twisted, white scar on the pale inner forearm of Potter's wrist.
Without taking his eyes off Justin, Potter backed up slightly. "All right, Malfoy?"
Draco touched himself tentatively on the chest and on his face. "Yeah."
"Okay." Potter instantaneously shielded his wand back into his robes and quickly slunk up the corridor back to an empty compartment away from everyone else's. The door slid shut and everything was quiet, except the dull engine of the pumping train.
Draco stared after him in disbelief for a moment, then turned his face back to Finch-Fletchley. Eyes narrowed, he snatched his wand out of his robes.
"Draco…what are you---" The Hufflepuff looked terrified.
"Stay where you are," Draco hissed. "I'm going to slip into something more comfortable."
"Oh," said Justin in relief. "Thank goodness." He grinned and stood up as Draco sauntered back down the corridor. "I knew he would come around." He turned towards the window to check out his reflection. Fixing his hair, Justin hummed and heard the compartment door slide open again a few moments later. "Welcome back, my sexy Slyth—what are YOU two doing in here?"
Crabbe slid the compartment door shut and locked it, and Goyle cast a silencing charm. They both smiled stupidly at Justin, cracking their knuckles and punching their hands. "We, my unfortunate little Hufflepuff, are something more comfortable."
* * *
Draco hurried back towards where he saw Potter disappear. He grinned slightly as he heard various crashes and hits from Finch-Fletchley's compartment; he would be the first student in the hospital wing after Crabbe and Goyle where through dismantling his face. He knew those two were good for something.
The second to last compartment was in front of him now, and taking a deep breath, he slid the door open.
"Potter?" he sneered into the tiny space. "What the hell was that back there?"
Harry looked up at him from his seat by the window, an uneaten Chocolate Frog melting all over his fingers. "Sod off, Malfoy." His voice was raspy and barely above a whisper. He looked back out the window at the trees that looked like green blurs due to the train's speed.
Draco stepped into the compartment and noisily shut the door behind him. "I didn't need your help, you know," he lied viciously. "I could take nine Hufflepuffs at once."
"I'm sure you have, too," said Harry quietly, putting the frog down and wiping his fingers on a handkerchief. "Shut the door behind you when you leave, please."
Tightening his mouth into a firm line, Draco sat across from Harry and pulled the shade down, blinding him from the salvation of the window. "I mean it, Potter. You can't resist just playing the hero whenever you have the chance, can you? Why the hell did you interfere in my affairs back there?"
Harry looked Draco directly in the eyes. "I did what any decent person would have done for anyone. Perhaps you would let me get raped on the Hogwarts Express; and maybe I'm the only one on this train who would help you out. And I'm sorry if a lousy Gryffindor helping you pissed you off, Malfoy. I won't bother in the future." He turned his entire body away, curling up in a ball on the seat. "Please leave."
The compartment was silent for about two minutes before Draco spoke again. "Why did you try to kill yourself, Potter?"
Harry didn't move.
"I'm asking you a question, Potter."
Harry didn't move.
"Potter. Why did you try to snuff yourself?"
Harry made a small noise that sounded like a sigh.
Draco stood up and jerked Harry around so he was facing him. "Potter, why the hell did you try to—"
Harry's green eyes were welled up with tears. "Get out, Malfoy. This is the last time I'll ask you. Please go. Leave me alone." Harry pried Malfoy's fingers off him and sat back into his seat as far as he could go. His voice was cracking and the tears were threatening to spill down his pale, gaunt cheeks.
"Gods, Potter, you don't have to CRY about it," Draco drawled, his resolve to keep pushing Potter until he cracked waning gradually. Harry was really upset. "Just answer my question!"
Suddenly, like a five year old, Harry's hands snapped up to his ears, covering them. "GET OUT, MALFOY!" He curled back into his ball. "GET OUT!"
Draco was shocked by this display. He stepped back a few steps quickly, watching Potter have a mental breakdown in front of him. "Potter, what in the name of Merlin is wrong with you?" He started to walk towards him again to try and calm him down.
"One more step and you're dead, Malfoy," said an angry voice from the doorway. Draco looked up and saw Ron and Hermione, wands drawn, rage in their eyes. "Take a step," Ron said quietly. "I'm begging you to, Malfoy, because there is nothing I would like better than to curse you into the seventh layer of hell right now."
Draco glared at Ron as Hermione put down her wand and ran over to Harry, enveloping him in her arms and rocking him back and forth. "It's alright, Harry," she whispered to him. "It's alright."
Ron stepped aside, wand still poised and ready to fire on Draco. "What reason could you possibly have, aside from being a git, for being in Harry's compartment?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," snapped Draco, glancing at a now calm Potter, who was staring at him blankly. "But Potter actually just did me a favor a few minutes ago, and I wanted to thank him. He just started freaking out when I asked him why he tried to off himself this summer."
"That's it, Malfoy," growled Ron. "Get the hell out, and I don't want to see you near Harry ever again."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Big loss for me. See you, Mudblood. Weasel." Before he left the compartment, he turned to face Harry. "And…thanks, Potter."
Harry looked at him incredulously for a second, and then nodded his head. "No problem," he said softly, before snapping the shade back up and taking in the scenery again.
"Out." Ron shoved Draco back and slid the door shut.
The hiss of the air brakes and the sharp blasts from the whistle told Draco that they had arrived at Hogwarts. Leaning back against the wall across from Potter's compartment, he slid to the ground and buried his face in his hands. "Potter…what have I gotten myself into?" he scolded himself. Now he felt in debt to Potter, which was the worst feeling of all, almost as bad as seeing Harry freak out on him. Potter had saved his life, well, he'd saved something of Draco's. Draco wondered why, knowing full well he wouldn't do the same for Harry if the roles were reversed. He would have to pay him back.
"Let's go, Malfoy!" said Crabbe gleefully, shutting the door to Justin's compartment, drowning out the moans of pain coming from inside. "Time to start another year!"
Draco nodded and stood up. He followed Crabbe and Goyle out to the horseless carriages, and as he climbed into one, he wondered how to pay Potter back for his…chivalry. Staring down at the red velvet seats inside his carriage, Draco tiredly shut his eyes, expecting to see a bright red tinge from the velvet on his eyelids.
Instead of the bright scarlet, he saw the white coloring of the twisted scar on Potter's right wrist, dancing and curving evilly up to god knows where on his arm, disappearing into his robes.