Chapter 2:
The Beginning
The entire week had been a perfect image of Draco's worst nightmare. Since the morning he had woken up late, his head pounding weakly, on that first day up to the current second. First there had been the train ride with that Weasley girl, then the abnormally long sorting of the recent infestation of First Years, and after that he had discovered – to his utmost surprise, I might add – that Pansy Parkinson still hadn't gotten a clue. But that wasn't all, oh no. Due to recent events, he had come to the conclusion that either the littlest weasel had taken to shadowing him, or his life was hell and fate was trying to make it worse.
Naturally, the second conclusion was much favored over the first.
In his entire life Draco had never run into someone so many times as he had run into Virginia Weasley during the last five days. It was mostly only a mere crossing of paths between classes, and they rarely spoke – when they did the arguments were explosive – but it was rather unsettling to almost expect that flicker of red in the corner of his eye. Honestly, two consecutive days hadn't gone by when he didn't at least catch sight of her. Usually it was more than that.
Draco shook his head. And now he was here in the Great Hall with every other student at Ten O'clock in the morning on a Saturday, Just as Dumbledore had requested. The old goat obviously had something to announce – something big, he suspected. The staff had been dropping hints all week. With the firm conviction that whatever the announcement turned out to be wouldn't interest him, Draco went back to contemplating his half-eaten breakfast. The rest of the Slytherins, most notably Crabbe and Goyle, continued to dig in on all sides of him.
He hadn't slept well last night, though he had a room of his own set aside in the Slytherin Dorm where he could escape the raucous snoring of his henchmen. All Slytherin Prefects had their own rooms, kept secret from the other houses, and used as incentive to achieve the rank. Few Slytherins were made prefects, compared to the numbers from the other houses. Draco glanced down distastefully at his pin, nearly hidden in the folds of his cloak. How he had been chosen to wear it he would never know. It wasn't something he aspired to – in his opinion Prefects were all stuck-up pricks – but he supposed it was just as well. Lucius and Narcissa would have expected no less of him.
The food vanished suddenly from his plate and from all the plates in the Great Hall. All conversations were continued in hushed whispers. Dumbledore, at the head of the Staff table, rapped a utensil against his goblet in a gesture for quiet that was largely unnecessary. The whispers ceased. In the silence Draco swore he could the collective turning of the students' heads towards their aged headmaster.
"My friends," Dumbledore began, and Draco fought back a snort. Friends…? What is this, a bloody tea party? "Many a year has passed since the tradition of Hogwarts first began. These very grounds have been host to the four founders of our school just as they are host to you now. For many of you, Hogwarts has, or will, become more than a place of learning, more than a castle you've been shipped off to – I hope that for most of you, Hogwarts will be a second home as it was to the first generation of students to walk these halls." By this point Draco was sure Dumbledore had charmed his voice against unwilling ears. "Since the time of our founders, fifteen hundred generations have made a home in Hogwarts, and so it is with great pleasure, and great honor, that I announce the 1500th anniversary of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. May it stand to see another."
The announcement was met with enthusiastic applause and where the Great Hall had been a tomb during Dumbledore's speech it was astir with excited chatter. Draco caught sight of the little Weasley girl. She was talking animatedly to some equally ecstatic Gryff beside her. He averted his eyes before she noticed them on her – it was only a glance, but he had accidentally caught her eye in a number of their 'run-ins' and often as not it lead to confrontation which wasn't something he was in the mood for.
He was a light sleeper by nature, and used to being kept up by the snoring of his fellow Slytherins in the dorms, but he didn't particularly enjoy being drowsy all day. It put him in something of a foul mood – well, more foul than usual, anyway. Absently, he wished breakfast had been left on the table, as pushing it around on his plate would better occupy his mind than anything Dumbledore had to say.
So the old excuse for a castle was fifteen hundred years old. Maybe now it was rotted enough to fall over and save everyone a lot of grief. And annoyance too. Oh, yes, plenty of that.
"In honor of this occasion," Dumbledore's voice silenced the Hall, "the staff and I have scheduled a ball – " again the students broke out in excited conversation. They were silenced by a wave of Dumbledore's hand " – It is to be held this Spring, and will be a most formal occasion. The ball will be themed after the time period in which the last Anniversary took place five hundred years ago, and in light of that fact you will all meet here at this time each week to be instructed in the proper form with which to attend."
Groans filled the air and Draco fought the urge to scowl furiously. Learn proper conduct? For a ball? And on Saturdays to boot? Ridiculous. Dumbledore chuckled before motioning once more for silence.
"If it is any consolation, the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be suffering the same fate, as parties from both schools will be attending." More agreeable murmurs rose from the crowded Hall. "However, I'm afraid actual lessons won't begin until next week, but you will be assigned partners to practice with – There will be no switching of partners allowed. Minerva, if you would."
As Dumbledore seated himself, Professor McGonagall rose from her seat, surveying the collection of students with a strict, stony gaze. That stare didn't phase Draco, as it had very early on in his Hogwarts career. If there was one thing he was sure about McGonagall, it was that her bark was a whole lot worse than her bite. She was only trouble if you were foolish enough to get caught. I was a stupid eleven-year-old, Draco thought, rolling his eyes back towards the stern head of Gryffindor. She frowned at the crowd in general. Some First Years were probably close to wetting themselves.
"I'm only going to say this once," she said, her voice the same harsh monotone he had enjoyed since his first year. "First and Second Years will be allowed to attend, but there will be a strict curfew. Any First or Second Years caught out after Ten O'clock will be severely punished. Third Years have until Eleven-thirty. You are required to dress and act as if in that age – as will all attending students, whether from Hogwarts or one of the visiting schools. I will be instructing you in speech and etiquette, and Professor Trelawney is to instruct you in formal ballroom dancing. Additional information concerning the era will be given during you regularly scheduled History of Magic class."
She swept her gaze across the hall one more time before she spoke again. "Now, if all of you would lift your plates you – Not until I am finished speaking please! – Now, beneath your plates you will find a card with the name of our assigned partner. Once you have taken the card, simply stand and wait for further instructions."
The sound of moving glass filled the Hall, but Draco didn't touch his own plate. He glanced down the table at Parkinson who was, thankfully, not seated anywhere near him. She was staring dolefully at a card no larger than her hand. Must not have been him, then. He stopped himself from sighing in relief and lifted his plate. Surely, he could deal with anyone else.
Virginia Weasley
Surely.
In retrospect, he really should have expected it.
Feeling the gaze of his new found partner on him, he raised his eyes to meet it coolly. And wonder of wonders, she was glaring at him. As if this is somehow all my fault.
Suddenly, McGonagall's voice cut through the din of the student's chatter, and Draco barely remembered to stand before the furniture vanished from the room. "If you have received a card the color of your own house, remain where you are. If not, you are to find your partner and take a place across from them. Now, quickly."
The last words were snapped out, and they sent the students into motion before she could even complete them. Shoving the red card with gold lettering into his pocket, Draco leisurely joined the crowd, managing to keep his face impassive. Not only did he have to move, but he had to move for a Weasley – he was becoming fairly cross with the entire situation and, had he been anyone else, probably would have been scowling for all he was worth. He stopped a short distance in front of the redhead. At least there was one consolation. Already, he could feel the smirk tugging at his lips. Ah, she was livid.
He gave her a catty near grin – she hated that one. In turn her tongue shot out at him and was back inside her mouth before anyone else took notice.
Draco raised a brow. "You're quite the lovely little flower, aren't you? That had to be the most mature thing I've ever seen."
"Only you would think so," she retorted hotly. Then she let out a sigh and her shoulders sagged. "I thought this was going to be such fun… and then I got paired with you. How could this have happened? We're not even in the same house!"
He almost felt sorry for her… oh, wait, no it was probably just pity. Either way, he shook it off without giving it a second thought.
"It's just some crackpot scheme of Dumbledore's to demote house rivalry," he scoffed at her. It was true, though, the houses had been at it like never before. "He's full of rubbish, if you ask me, and so is anyone who would think that this pathetic excuse for a celebration is going to be anything more than a graveyard for those who want to die of boredom."
"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, no one is asking you!"
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but McGonagall beat him to it. Old bat.
"This is where you will meet every week from now on," she began, and Draco – as well as many of the other students – found that this time he was able to let her voice fade into the background as he would do, undoubtedly, for many Saturdays to come.
It was the start of much unpleasantness.
A/N: I realize this chapter is a bit dull, but it's necessary to the (semi-non-existant) plot. I have kind of a hard time writing in Draco's POV… so I hope he's alright… Oh! Thanks for the reviews, I'm now going to take the time to answer them:
Robyn Maddison: Heh… I suppose you're right. Nothing better than a good D/G ^^!
Carrot Top: Well, here's the next chapter – hope you didn't have to wait too long. Glad you liked it ^^
Laura: Thanks – as you can see, I am continuing, and hopefully will for some time… ^^; I hope this chapter wasn't too boring for you…
Kelsey McCartney: hehe… *bows head in embarrassment* Your review was so flattering… I know I didn't update real soon this time, but I'll try and update faster in the future.
Socchan: Er… no, Professor Trelawney won't be playing matchmaker, but now that you mention it it's an interesting idea… you're right though, I already have other things planned so I don't think that'll be happening. *sighs* actually, it looks like they'll be bickering for a few chapters… And I know what you mean about being in a section you know nothing about – I use a different name sometimes… -.- which is actually sort of weird now that I think about it…
Mandy: Ugh! You better not criticize me – you know my fragile ego can't take it… but don't worry about the updates – shouldn't be any longer than a week at the most. Still, you could always criticize my d/g shippiness… that's mostly what I pick on in your story…