Reaching Hogwarts, I grabbed my book and filed out of the train with the
rest of the students. Head down again, I pushed through the crowd and
eventually reached a carriage and climbed in, giving no thought to if
anyone was inside or not.
I sit down on a seat, pulling the door closed, making the carriage an almost-pitch black. Leaning back, I inhale the sweet, musty scent of dry hay. Staring almost blindly at the ceiling, I imagine what the Great Feast is going to be like. Sitting alone. No one with me, no one I would even remotely want to talk to. Listening to the Sorting Hat chant its cute little song and then sending our table a few more blue-blooded pricks.
My eyes close, and I drift off into a dream-like state, where I meet a bloke with green eyes and shaggy black hair.
The carriage jolted, and I started, opening my eyes to see that we had arrived in front of the school. I wrapped my robe around me and quickly exited, my head down and arms crossed across my chest, staring sharply out of the corner of my eye for any sign of Harry.
None.
Entering the Great Hall in the flood of students, I continued searching, and for one fleeting second, I saw a pair of green eyes focus on mine.
Smiling slightly, I got to the Slytherin table and sat down in an empty spot as far away from my classmates as possible. Glancing around, watching the students file in, I got more than a few strange stares. What was Draco Malfoy, the most popular bloke in Slytherin, doing sitting alone? What a shock it would be for everyone if they heard about my summer holiday. I could just imagine the gasps of horror and the sickened expressions.
Losing myself in my thoughts for what seemed like the fiftieth time today, I vaguely noticed the Sorting Hat chanting its cheery little tune and first- years gradually sitting down all around me. Dumbledore stood and gestured at the tables, not saying a word. The first-years all gasped as the tables were suddenly sagging with every culinary masterpiece imaginable. The hall suddenly burst into chatter and my temples began to pound. Chancing a glance at the Gryffindor table, I noticed Harry had the same expression as me on his face: grimacing in pain like the whole notion of school and friends upset him. Like he wanted solitude, or at least someone to relate to.
Scowling at all the insanely happy people around me, I slumped into my seat and ignored my groaning stomach, instead concentrating on trying to catch Harrys eye.
The Hogwarts school year had begun.
After the massive feast is over, Dumbledore stands to say a few words. After prattling on about restricted items, no spells in the hallway, and the ever-present, never-obeyed rule of not entering the Forbidden Forest, the whole of the school gets and files toward the door, then separates, first-years mechanically following the prefects and upperclassmen automatically using the quickest route to their room. Halfway to the common room, my head down and fringe in front of my face as usual, my eyes widen and I stop in my tracks as I remember my main goal for the day: find Harry. If, and when I found him, what would I do? Only time could tell.
Cautiously veering away from the students, I made my way towards the Gryffindor common room. I knew vaguely where it was located but not the exact directions to get there. After going up and then down a few flights of stairs, I entered a dark, damp hallway that I knew was definitely not the site of one of the Hogwarts houses. Not knowing where I else to go, I ventured down the stone corridor, keeping an eye out for any sign of movement. My curiosity getting the better of me, I continued walking down the dank artery, looking for a door, a statue, or even a person.
Almost to the end of the hallway, I turn around, disappointed in the utter stillness. I had hoped for maybe a niche, a cubbyhole, even, a place where I could escape from a full room of very vocal teenage boys whom I had the displeasure of rooming with. I imagined at that very moment they were busy comparing numbers of girls they'd shagged over the summer and how many times they stolen Firewhiskey from their parents.
Hands in my pockets, I dawdled down the hall, taking as much time as possible until I had to enter the Slytherin common room. Kicking loose stones, observing the different shades of moss on the walls, I was almost to the stairway when I heard a sigh. Not a sigh of wind, nor a sigh from a teacher or disgruntled prefect patrolling the halls..
Harry Potter stood in one shadowy corner.
Seeing me, what looked like the beginning of a smile touched his lips. Emerging from the gloom, he stepped closer and closer to me, until there was barely two inches dividing us. My mouth dry, I couldn't say a word.
"Hey, Draco." Harry murmured, keeping his voice down to prevent anyone above or below from hearing us. "I saw you staring at me at dinner. Were you thinking about our meeting?"
He smiled, almost mysteriously, waiting for my answer.
"I..I.."
For the first time in probably over a millennia, a member of the Malfoy family was at a loss for words. Somewhere, my great-great grandfather was rolling in his grave. I try to turn away, try to narrow my eyes to his, try to scoff and say "Never mind about that, Potter, I don't want to have any contact with you."
Brilliant emerald lock onto cold steel for a moment..
Then, a hand on the back of my neck.
Warmth tingled up my spine and made me shiver as I realized that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the most famous wizard in the world, friends to Muggles, Mudbloods, and wizards alike, was kissing me. Harry effing Potter was KISSING me.
Not just any kiss either. Teeth bit at bottom lips, tongues explored and entwined, warm lips traveled up and down my cheekbone. His fingers massaged my neck before traveling up to my hair and tangling it in his hands.
It was suffocating. I couldn't breath.
I didn't want to, or hell, even need to.
I just wanted to concentrate on Harry.
Suddenly, I heard a clatter of footsteps on the stairway below, and the unmistakable Scottish brogue of the Gryffindor head, Professor McGonagall.
"You know, Albus, I'm surprised you didn't make Harry Potter a prefect this year. Isn't he quite qualified?"
Before I could hear the answer, Harry had broken away from me and clattered down the hallway, again disappearing into the blackness at the very end of the hall. For all I knew, there was a door back there.
Frozen to the spot, my cheeks flushed, heart racing, and stomach churning, I watched in horror as the two teachers ascended the stairs to the very corridor I stood in.
Deep in conversation, they didn't recognize a human being was in front of them until they had almost rain into me. Dumbledore just folded his hands in front of him and gazed under his spectacles at me, and McGonagall raised one thin eyebrow and spoke eight words I couldn't answer truthfully to. I couldn't even think of a lie. The edges of my brain were all fuzzy, all I could focus on was the fact I was shivering with warm and surprise and that my mouth was utterly parched.
"And what exactly ARE you doing, Mr. Malfoy?"
I sit down on a seat, pulling the door closed, making the carriage an almost-pitch black. Leaning back, I inhale the sweet, musty scent of dry hay. Staring almost blindly at the ceiling, I imagine what the Great Feast is going to be like. Sitting alone. No one with me, no one I would even remotely want to talk to. Listening to the Sorting Hat chant its cute little song and then sending our table a few more blue-blooded pricks.
My eyes close, and I drift off into a dream-like state, where I meet a bloke with green eyes and shaggy black hair.
The carriage jolted, and I started, opening my eyes to see that we had arrived in front of the school. I wrapped my robe around me and quickly exited, my head down and arms crossed across my chest, staring sharply out of the corner of my eye for any sign of Harry.
None.
Entering the Great Hall in the flood of students, I continued searching, and for one fleeting second, I saw a pair of green eyes focus on mine.
Smiling slightly, I got to the Slytherin table and sat down in an empty spot as far away from my classmates as possible. Glancing around, watching the students file in, I got more than a few strange stares. What was Draco Malfoy, the most popular bloke in Slytherin, doing sitting alone? What a shock it would be for everyone if they heard about my summer holiday. I could just imagine the gasps of horror and the sickened expressions.
Losing myself in my thoughts for what seemed like the fiftieth time today, I vaguely noticed the Sorting Hat chanting its cheery little tune and first- years gradually sitting down all around me. Dumbledore stood and gestured at the tables, not saying a word. The first-years all gasped as the tables were suddenly sagging with every culinary masterpiece imaginable. The hall suddenly burst into chatter and my temples began to pound. Chancing a glance at the Gryffindor table, I noticed Harry had the same expression as me on his face: grimacing in pain like the whole notion of school and friends upset him. Like he wanted solitude, or at least someone to relate to.
Scowling at all the insanely happy people around me, I slumped into my seat and ignored my groaning stomach, instead concentrating on trying to catch Harrys eye.
The Hogwarts school year had begun.
After the massive feast is over, Dumbledore stands to say a few words. After prattling on about restricted items, no spells in the hallway, and the ever-present, never-obeyed rule of not entering the Forbidden Forest, the whole of the school gets and files toward the door, then separates, first-years mechanically following the prefects and upperclassmen automatically using the quickest route to their room. Halfway to the common room, my head down and fringe in front of my face as usual, my eyes widen and I stop in my tracks as I remember my main goal for the day: find Harry. If, and when I found him, what would I do? Only time could tell.
Cautiously veering away from the students, I made my way towards the Gryffindor common room. I knew vaguely where it was located but not the exact directions to get there. After going up and then down a few flights of stairs, I entered a dark, damp hallway that I knew was definitely not the site of one of the Hogwarts houses. Not knowing where I else to go, I ventured down the stone corridor, keeping an eye out for any sign of movement. My curiosity getting the better of me, I continued walking down the dank artery, looking for a door, a statue, or even a person.
Almost to the end of the hallway, I turn around, disappointed in the utter stillness. I had hoped for maybe a niche, a cubbyhole, even, a place where I could escape from a full room of very vocal teenage boys whom I had the displeasure of rooming with. I imagined at that very moment they were busy comparing numbers of girls they'd shagged over the summer and how many times they stolen Firewhiskey from their parents.
Hands in my pockets, I dawdled down the hall, taking as much time as possible until I had to enter the Slytherin common room. Kicking loose stones, observing the different shades of moss on the walls, I was almost to the stairway when I heard a sigh. Not a sigh of wind, nor a sigh from a teacher or disgruntled prefect patrolling the halls..
Harry Potter stood in one shadowy corner.
Seeing me, what looked like the beginning of a smile touched his lips. Emerging from the gloom, he stepped closer and closer to me, until there was barely two inches dividing us. My mouth dry, I couldn't say a word.
"Hey, Draco." Harry murmured, keeping his voice down to prevent anyone above or below from hearing us. "I saw you staring at me at dinner. Were you thinking about our meeting?"
He smiled, almost mysteriously, waiting for my answer.
"I..I.."
For the first time in probably over a millennia, a member of the Malfoy family was at a loss for words. Somewhere, my great-great grandfather was rolling in his grave. I try to turn away, try to narrow my eyes to his, try to scoff and say "Never mind about that, Potter, I don't want to have any contact with you."
Brilliant emerald lock onto cold steel for a moment..
Then, a hand on the back of my neck.
Warmth tingled up my spine and made me shiver as I realized that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the most famous wizard in the world, friends to Muggles, Mudbloods, and wizards alike, was kissing me. Harry effing Potter was KISSING me.
Not just any kiss either. Teeth bit at bottom lips, tongues explored and entwined, warm lips traveled up and down my cheekbone. His fingers massaged my neck before traveling up to my hair and tangling it in his hands.
It was suffocating. I couldn't breath.
I didn't want to, or hell, even need to.
I just wanted to concentrate on Harry.
Suddenly, I heard a clatter of footsteps on the stairway below, and the unmistakable Scottish brogue of the Gryffindor head, Professor McGonagall.
"You know, Albus, I'm surprised you didn't make Harry Potter a prefect this year. Isn't he quite qualified?"
Before I could hear the answer, Harry had broken away from me and clattered down the hallway, again disappearing into the blackness at the very end of the hall. For all I knew, there was a door back there.
Frozen to the spot, my cheeks flushed, heart racing, and stomach churning, I watched in horror as the two teachers ascended the stairs to the very corridor I stood in.
Deep in conversation, they didn't recognize a human being was in front of them until they had almost rain into me. Dumbledore just folded his hands in front of him and gazed under his spectacles at me, and McGonagall raised one thin eyebrow and spoke eight words I couldn't answer truthfully to. I couldn't even think of a lie. The edges of my brain were all fuzzy, all I could focus on was the fact I was shivering with warm and surprise and that my mouth was utterly parched.
"And what exactly ARE you doing, Mr. Malfoy?"