CHAPTER THREE

"No, it's just…very few people surprise me."
"Really? Most of them shock the hell out of me."
Richard Gere and Julia Roberts, PRETTY WOMAN

The rest of the holidays passed quickly enough and soon the Hogwarts students gathered once more at Platform nine and three-quarters to embark onto the steam engine that would take them back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for another year. Draco's parents didn't come to see him off again this year. Instead he was driven in a horseless carriage that Muggles called a "car" to King's Cross Station where an obliging house-elf carried his trunk for him. It was cruelly amusing to see the spindly little creature struggle through crowds of Muggles with a large wooden trunk that was about four times the size of it. "I say, look at that funny dog," muggles were saying. "Look at that, he's carrying that boy's trunk for him. Don't you think that's a bit cruel?"

Draco was sure it was a bit cruel but he didn't care; that's what the servants were there for, after all. Unfortunately the first person he ran into was the person who was least likely to agree with him: Hermione Granger. And ran into was literally what happened.

"Oof!"

"Watch where you're going," Draco snapped and then groaned when he recognised the back of that bushy head. "Granger."

She turned- her hair ridiculously boofy, her eyes ridiculously vibrant. "Malfoy:" she said with similar contempt. Then she looked down at their feet, at the little house-elf struggling with Draco's trunk. Her eyes widened in anger. "I suppose this is your idea of entertainment," she snapped, relieving the tiny creature of its burden at once.

"Well, if it's provided so, how can I refuse it?" Draco said coolly, avoiding her gaze by staring contemptuously down at the house elf.

"I see. Well you'll be happy to know," she grunted, hefting the heavy trunk in her hands, "that you've broken your own record and reached a new low before term's even started."

"Oh for Christ's sake," Draco said roughly. He grabbed the handles of the trunk, letting Granger's hands slide out from beneath his immediately. "You may go," he added curtly to the house elf.

"But sir, I is being told to stay until Master Draco is on the train-"

"Just bugger off!" Draco said irritably, and the elf scurried away, out of reach of Draco's boots.

"Oh, aren't we tough," sneered Granger, folding her arms across her chest. "Abusing a creature a third our size now? You'll be given an award for that one, Malfoy."

"I'm glad to see you haven't changed, Mudblood, you're still as witty as ever," Draco said disdainfully. The statement was deceptively honest, without either of them realising. Draco was glad she hadn't changed, and her snappy remarks were still as poignant as ever. At least she had some fight left in her. "And by the way, speaking of creatures who aren't tough, where's Weasley?" He was expecting to be triumphant in getting her goat, but all she did was raise her eyebrows. No basilisk-glare, no flash of anger in her eyes, no baring of teeth. All she did was crook her right eyebrow at him.

"I find it a bit rich that that remark is coming from someone who has hidden behind his family's fortune, status and lineage for all his life. Not so tough now, are you Malfoy, now that your father's picked the losing side?"

Something very cold reached out and grabbed Malfoy round the heart and squeezed. It was the same feeling he'd had when Potter had once insulted his mother back in fourth year. It was the same feeling he got when anyone said anything about his parents. "Watch your mouth Granger."

Something did flash in her eyes then, and Draco could only interpret it as cruelty. "What's the matter? Isn't daddy Death Eater providing for the family any more?"

Before Draco could stop himself, he'd thrown his trunk to the ground so violently the lid snapped open, reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. She looked surprised, but not pained, not even when he twisted with all his might. "You stupid bitch," he found himself hissing. She just stared up at him in shock.

Weasley and Potter both swooped down on them then. There was a bit of a scene and it took both Potter and Granger holding Weasley back to stop him doing something violent. Eventually he was bundled onto the train and Draco was left to heft his trunk into an empty compartment. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle were anywhere to be seen, which was odd. Ususally one of them appeared by the time he was on the train to carry his things for him. Come to think of it… he hadn't had his usual couple of owls during the holidays. Crabbe and Goyle usually sent a few pieces of parchment each, but Draco never replied; in any case, neither of them had legible handwriting.

"Oh well," he thought, shoving his trunk in an overhead compartment. He didn't feel up to ridiculous conversation- certainly not any class of conversation that Crabbe or Goyle could provide. An empty compartment would do him good. After all- hadn't he just spent the summer holidays without word or contact with his friends? Surely a train ride wasn't going to make much difference.

He threw himself down onto the train seat, thinking hard. Granger's comment in the station that morning was no doubt the first of many. He felt curiously detached from how he had reacted- as though it were someone else that grabbed her wrist and twisted it, and he had merely stepped outside his body and watched. He had been brought up as a gentleman. The one time he had been involved in any sort of fisticuffs was- well, that time Granger slapped him. Curious that the only physical violence he had ever bestowed on any person (house elves didn't count, surely) was the one person who had bestowed physical violence on him. Apart from his father of course.

Burt Draco had already disappointed his father enough this year. It wouldn't do to go and beat some sense into the man. It wasn't Draco's place to fight back. Besides, hadn't old Lucius always told Draco to rise above it all? "Rise above the filth Draco- the half-bloods and the Muggle-borns and those who have no respect for pure wizarding blood. Don't respond to their violence. Don't bring shame to the family." Draco wondered if physically abusing a girl was an example of bringing shame to the family. "Oh well," he thought, again. If it got back to his father, he wouldn't mind, because all Draco had done was twist the wrist of a Mudblood, and no one had ever told him that Mudbloods counted.

Knock, knock, knock. "Come in." Draco groaned. He had to fight back another groan when the compartment door slid open and he saw who it was.

"Draco!" said Pansy Parkinson, sitting by him at once. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Hi Pansy," Draco said. He received her hug with his usual unresponsive manner- the girl could delude herself if she wanted to but he wasn't going to encourage her affections. (In hindsight, it had been a mistake to invite her to the Yule Ball- she seemed to have taken his invitation the wrong way.) Needless to say, Draco didn't appreciate being churned into the Hogwarts rumour mill, especially if it was involving the words "Pansy", "Parkinson's" and "boyfriend."

Not to be deterred, Pansy leant against his shoulder, looking up at him with lovesick eyes. "Draco," she murmured, "it's all over the train that you and Hermione Granger were about to come to blows in the station this morning?"

"Untrue, as usual," Draco answered, getting to his feet and walking over to the window. "I would no sooner come to blows with Granger than I would wish to associate with her."

Pansy came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "So what really happened?"

(Lying wasn't Draco's style.) "I grabbed her wrist and twisted it."

"You didn't!"

"I certainly did."

"Oooooh, Draco!" Pansy gave a malicious giggle. "That's awful! I'm so glad. She really deserves it, doesn't she?"

"Yes," said Draco, thinking of the flash of cruelty in Hermione's eyes. What's the matter? Isn't daddy Death Eater providing for the family any more? It was unlike her to be so malicious- Draco supposed it was his comment about Weasley that set her off. (When would people learn that they made themselves vulnerable the moment they fell in love?) Oh well. At least he knew that she still had a bit of spunk. Weasley's furious reaction this morning was the first time Draco had managed to get a rise out of the ginger-haired idiot for ages. It seemed Weasley could only get angry on Granger' s behalf. And as for Potter, he was frankly disappointing. Draco sighed.

"Something wrong?" Pansy simpered, slipping round so she was hugging his stomach. She placed her chin in the middle of his stomach and looked up at him with moony hazel eyes.

She was quite pretty sometimes- perhaps it was the afternoon light shining through the train window- in any case, Draco approved of her right then much more than he had at the Yule Ball. Make-up didn't suit her narrow eyes and thin lips, having the effect of making her look much older and unattractive than she actually was. He liked the effect of the light on her autumn-blonde hair, which was probably what prompted him to run a hand through it. He was never able to resist touching pretty things, but in this case, wished he had had more willpower. Pansy beamed at him and immediately launched herself at his face. It wasn't the first time she had kissed him of course- in fact Draco had gotten a surprise after the Yule Ball when she had asked him to walk her up to the girls dorms and then promptly attacked him with kisses against the wall. It was a very demeaning experience, especially when he had had to turn her down in the politest way possible in the situation. ("What the hell do you think you're doing?! Pansy, get off me!")

That wasn't the last time he'd rejected her either, but she seemed to be encouraged by his frequent re-buffings rather than put off. It had never occurred to Draco that it might be prudent to put her off once and for all. But today he felt like something should be done.

"Pansy," he said, pushing her away with all the gentleness he could muster. "What are you doing?"

She looked bewildered. "I'm…kissing you?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Draco said. She smiled in a bemused sort of way.

"I'm kissing you," she said, with more conviction, and promptly leaned up to continue. Draco stopped her. "What's the matter?" she said finally.

"You're kissing me." Draco said, he paused. He prided himself on his articulation and wit, It was important to get this right. "I admire you and I respect you, and I can be your friend. But I can't kiss you."

"Why not?"

The answer was simple. "Because I don't love you."

Her eyes widened. "But…I thought…Draco-" she was struggling to talk. Tears were beginning to fill her eyes. Draco was marveling at his own countenance- surely it wasn't normal to be rejecting a perfectly acceptable, attractive girl in this manner, watching her cry, and feeling nothing? No reaction, no emotion filled his heart, not a drop of sympathy. There was just nothing. This was what was practical, and it had to be done. "Draco, don't you think you could come to love me?" she tried desperately.

"No," he said simply. "I don't, and I never have. The only reason I invited you to the Ball was because you were my friend and my equal in status and wealth and…" She was sobbing now. Draco was shocked. He'd never seen anyone cry so hard over something so trifling- except maybe his mother, who in her worse states was prone to crying over anything from a dead cat to a broken nail. "Pansy?" said Draco.

"Don't bother!" Suddenly she was furious, shoving past him to the door. "It's quite clear that you think it acceptable to string me along for years, not even bothering to tell me how you really feel!" She paused at the door. "I thought you were better than that." She was clearly fighting back tears furiously. 'So how about all those girls? "They all mean nothing to me," you said."

"They didn't," said Draco.

"Yeah, right!" Pansy snapped, "Why didn't you tell me that they were your girlfriends if we've been just friends all this time?"

"They weren't my girlfriends," Draco said, shrugging. "They were just…I don't know, they were nothing."

Pansy clearly found this unacceptable. "I don't believe you," she shouted finally, and turned on her heel and slammed out of the compartment. A moment later it was open again. "By the way," she said frostily. "Crabbe wanted me to pass on a message. Apparently he was too ashamed to tell you himself. He and Goyle failed their exams- they're not coming back to Hogwarts."

"What?" Draco said. In the same hour he's been shocked twice. First by Granger, now by..."Where are they?""

"Bulgaria," Pansy said with a malicious smirk. "Their parents thought it would be best, with- well, you know. Everything." Then she was gone with a swish of her long blonde hair. Draco looked out the window for a very long time. Again, he felt nothing. It surprised him that they weren't coming back, but it surprised him more that he felt nothing about the fact that they weren't coming back, since they had been the closest people he'd had to- well, close friends.

But they hadn't really provided him with any real substance. Both were too stupid and too naive to provide any real friendship. Loyalty, certainly, and protection, of course. (His father had suggested that as well. Find some friends who can protect you Draco, you'll be targeted within those walls…) But a friend was someone who you could be yourself with. Someone who knew all about and still liked you. And Draco didn't have any real friends because no one knew all about him. He didn't have any need for them, though.

All in all, a curious start to the year. The train chugged onwards, on its way to Hogwarts.