Reaching Maturity
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. So don't sue. I can lay claim to Michael Feeney, though.
A/N: This is chapter 2. As stated in chapter 1, this is ignoring events in OotP, and so certain people are alive and Mrs. Figg is a witch, not a Squib. I am also ignoring Harry's brief relationship with a certain Ravenclaw (as you'll find out). And DADA is compulsory for all seven years now, given the circumstances in the wizarding world. Enjoy!
Author thanks at the bottom.
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Chapter 2: Term Begins
Ron was relieved when September 1st eventually arrived. Ever since the meeting, Harry had been moody and quiet, even when he, Ron, Ron's parents and Ron's sixth-year sister Ginny had all met Hermione in Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies, and he had not disclosed whom it was he had met.
Hermione was already on Platform 9 ¾ when Harry and the Weasleys arrived through the barrier. "About time, too!" she huffed. "The train's due to leave in fifteen minutes!"
"We had to go back for one of my books," admitted Ron guiltily.
"Ron! You're a prefect!" admonished Hermione. "You're supposed to Set A Good Example To The Younger Students!"
"There's plenty of time yet before the train leaves!" protested Ron. He and Harry exchanged looks. Both had seen the gleaming Head Girl badge pinned to Hermione's blue top. Not that they were particularly surprised; they'd known right from the start of their first year that Hermione would be Head Girl. "Who's Head Boy?"
"Anthony Goldstein, from Ravenclaw," answered Hermione. "And you're Quidditch captain for Gryffindor, Harry, seeing as Katie left last year?"
"I am," confirmed the bespectacled boy as he and Ron loaded their trunks onto the train. "As well as sub-Prefect for Gryffindor." As one of the two sub-Prefects (Chris Moon of Ravenclaw apparently being the other), Harry had fewer responsibilities and did not have to attend meetings. Sub-prefects existed more to provide additional support for their House; there were two for seventh-year, one each for the Houses that had the Head Boy and Girl. "Come on, let's get on." He glanced around for Malfoy, but didn't spot him anywhere.
"Someone's in a hurry," remarked Hermione shrewdly, earning a glare from Harry. She'd had a letter from Ron without Harry knowing, to warn her of his moodiness. He'd mentioned the mystery visit and she regarded him discreetly now. She'd seen him looking for someone, and suspected that he was looking for Malfoy, assuming that he was hoping to avoid him. She had no reason to think otherwise.
Ginny had by now left them for her own friends as they looked for an empty compartment. There were none; most held groups of chattering and laughing students, or terrified first-years, except for one near the back of the train, which contained a sleeping man in the corner. His soft brown hair was streaked with grey, his face was thin and his robes were worn and patched. The man's bag was also worn and old.
"Professor Lupin!" exclaimed Ron loudly.
Lupin stirred and slowly opened his eyes. "Ron, Hermione, Harry!" he greeted them enthusiastically, waking up properly. "I haven't seen you for ages!"
"Are you taking over Defence Against the Dark Arts again?" asked Hermione curiously, sitting down opposite the man.
Lupin nodded. "I understand my predecessor had an encounter with a Dementor and came off rather badly?"
Ron snorted. "It was his own fault. He was incompetent and he didn't seem to know about Patronuses."
Lupin tutted. "Dear, dear. Anyway, Dumbledore asked me back. Lack of applicants and all that. Said I was the only half-competent person around to teach it, along with Arabella Figg, who came out of retirement especially for this year. Severus, naturally, wasn't too happy, but he didn't have any say in the matter."
"We have two teachers?" asked Ron in amazement.
Hermione elbowed him. "Don't be so thick!" she hissed.
Ron's cheeks went as red as his hair. "Sorry, Professor!" he apologised hastily. "I – er – I forgot for a moment. Sorry."
"Accepted." Lupin waved the apology aside. His face grew serious. "Hogwarts is one of the very few safe places for me now. There's no way of knowing who is siding with whom. I've been living in my parents' old house, but I can't do so any longer, especially as I've been informed by reliable sources that some Death Eaters are hunting me down. Pettigrew's probably one of them; I'd be very surprised if he wasn't, if I'm honest." He turned to Harry, who had claimed the corner and was gazing blankly out of the window as the train began to move. "You're quiet, Harry."
"He's been like this ever since he went to Diagon Alley three weeks ago to meet someone. Won't say who it was or tell me anything," said Ron shortly.
"Because it's none of your business and you wouldn't understand anyway!" Harry snapped angrily. "So just shut up and keep out of it!" He slumped back down into his corner, falling silent once more.
Hermione put a restraining hand on Ron's arm. "Leave it," she ordered.
"Malfoy hasn't been along yet to launch his usual attack," commented Ron. "Hey, Harry, it wasn't him you were meeting was it?!"
Of course not!" retorted Harry, lying through his teeth. If only they knew, he thought to himself. If only they knew.
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At the feast that evening after the Sorting, Harry glanced across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table. There was no mistaking Joseph Flint. He was virtually identical to his older brother – tall, large front teeth, dark brown hair, dark eyes and a permanent sneer on his face.
Harry also noticed Malfoy sitting closer to the head of the table than Flint, amongst the other seventh-years. The blond-haired boy gave him a small smile when his grey eyes met Harry's green ones. He looked miserable – not that Harry was surprised, given that Malfoy had Pansy Parkinson sitting next to him, her bright pink painted talons firmly clamped to Draco's upper arm, a silly simper on her face. Enough to make any boy miserable! thought Harry wryly.
The chatter at the Gryffindor table washed right over him, and Colin Creevey's camera going off multiple times along the length of the house table (rather than just in Harry's face) failed to snap him out of his thoughts as he watched Malfoy. He looked uncomfortable sitting at his table and Harry briefly entertained the idea of snatching a quick word with him. He dismissed it immediately, though; it would be too obvious that their relationship had changed, something that Malfoy couldn't risk at this point – especially if the Slytherins were hanging around. Sending a note by owl (although not his own, Hedwig, as it would be too conspicuous) would be the best means of communication between the two.
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Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was the first lesson for the Gryffindors, which they had with the Hufflepuffs. They got a long lecture on how important the NEWTs were to their futures, whatever career they chose. This lesson was followed by Lupin's DADA, which Gryffindor had with Slytherin. Lupin was popular amongst the Gryffindors, and even the Slytherins tolerated him after having received a lecture the previous evening from Professor Snape, their house head.
Lupin scanned the room quickly from his place at the front of the room. "Where is Lavender Brown?" He was greeted by a heavy silence. "Anyone?"
Parvati Patil, another Gryffindor girl, hesitantly raised her hand. "Christmas holidays of sixth year, there was a Death Eater attack on her home … They killed her, her parents and her sister."
Lupin's face darkened. "Thank you, Parvati." He picked up the book no his desk. "Turn to page five hundred and three, please. You'll find a picture of a Basilisk." He briefly let his eyes rest on Harry, who had fought one in his second year, and Hermione, who had been Petrified by one a few months before then. "You wouldn't stand much chance against one of these, something that I'm sure you are all only too aware of. Please read the section and make detailed notes from it, and we'll then have a discussion on how to deal with them, should you ever encounter one. I'll answer any questions you might have." He glanced around the room. "Not working, Draco? Or do you know it all already?"
Draco flushed, embarrassed at being pulled up for not working. He had been thinking about the letter he had received from his father that morning at breakfast, brought by Hecate. He hadn't liked it one bit: Your marks must improve. You cannot allow a filthy Mudblood like Granger to do better than you – purebloods, and especially Malfoys, should prove themselves to be above scum like her…We were in contact with the Parkinsons yesterday…Miss Parkinson certainly has the correct ideas…(something which had caused Draco to shudder)…Our guest is as keen as I for you to join our select group…
He had to talk to Harry, so when he knew nobody was looking (a rare occurrence in Slytherin), he scribbled a brief note for the Gryffindor and, at the end of the lesson when everyone made a dash for the door, Draco collided with Harry and pushed the note into his hand. His next lesson was Herbology, with Hufflepuff, and he was usually partnered with Pansy (not through his own choice), who was becoming more and more attached to him. She was like a limpet now, and he hated it. He could hardly ever get away from her. He'd never actually liked her (his father had ordered him to take her to the Yule Ball in their fourth year) and everyone seemed convinced that the pair would be getting married once they left Hogwarts. Harry and Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw from the year above, were practically engaged, despite early hiccups. Granger and Weasley had gone out for a while in their sixth year, but Weasley had got jealous over Granger's friendship with Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Quidditch player (there was nothing more than friendship) and they had broken up in January.
Draco knew that he and Pansy simply did not complement one another, but because she was pureblooded, from a rich family and a Slytherin, it was assumed that they would marry. Even though I'm far more intelligent than she is, we have completely different interests, I don't fancy her…It was all his father's doing, of course. Everything always was.
He avoided the Great Hall at lunch, obtaining something from the kitchens instead. After Herbology, in which Sprout had partnered them for the year and put Draco with Hufflepuff prefect Hannah Abbott, he stormed out of Greenhouse Six and out into the school grounds. He was relieved that Pansy did not attempt to follow him; he wanted to be alone. He had a lot to think about.
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Harry waited until everyone else had left the Gryffindor common room for bed that night, and, when his watch told him that it was eleven-twenty pm, he threw on his Invisibility Cloak and left the tower. He stole up to the Owlery, encountering no teachers at all (for once). Malfoy was waiting for him by the window, and he wordlessly handed over his father's letter to Harry. Harry read it, his hatred of Lucius Malfoy growing with every sentence. "Is your father always like this?"
Malfoy rested his arms on the window ledge and gazed out across the school grounds, the light breeze from the glassless window blowing his blond hair into his eyes. "Yep. Always. Such a wonderful man." He fingered a new bruise on his cheek. "So don't wonder why I'm so bitter and prejudiced and full of hatred. I've never known anything else. I don't blame you for hating me. It's what I deserve, after all. And you hate my father – join the club. And now I've turned out just like him. Excellent."
"I thought you wanted to be just like him?" said Harry, puzzled. "You were always going on about how wonderful he was."
"We've already had this conversation, Potter!" Draco snapped irritably. "Look, I used to be like that. I'm not any more. Ever since we got our OWL results between fifth and sixth year, I've been Public Enemy Number One at home – yes, I know that's a Muggle phrase, but I really don't care right now – and it's why I stayed at school for Christmas of sixth year. I keep getting told that I'm 'letting the family name down', or words to that effect. Not that it can go much lower thanks to my dear ancestors." He snorted derisively and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm having a civil conversation with Harry Potter, of all people. Mind you, I don't know where I belong now, so I may as well talk civilly to you."
"Well, I reckon you don't belong with Pansy Parkinson," remarked Harry teasingly.
Draco shuddered. "Please, Potter. Don't."
"Why me, though? Why, of all the people in Hogwarts and the wizarding world in general, did you choose to talk to me?" asked Harry.
"You're the only one who might listen to me, who'll hear me out, who I can trust. I'd go to Snape because I think you and he are on the same side, but my father's adamant that he's a loyal Death Eater and that he's convinced Dumbledore that he's 'reformed' even though he hasn't. The latter of which, personally, I don't happen to believe."
A nearby yowl rang through the tower.
"Mrs. Norris!" hissed Draco, panicked. Where Mrs. Norris the cat was, caretaker Argus Filch was sure to be close behind. Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and threw it over both of them. "Into the corner by the cupboard! Quick!" he hissed, just in time. The door creaked open and Filch slowly walked in, the aforementioned cat just in front of him. She immediately turned her baleful, yellow, lamplike eyes in the direction of the two seventh-year boys, who froze, holding their breath.
Filch took his time in swinging his lantern around the circular room. He scowled. "Just the birds, my sweet," he said to his cat as a crash echoed up from down in the main castle. He spun round so he was facing the door again. "Is that Peeves again? If he's wrecked the Trophy Room again…" he muttered to himself, "I'll have him out of Hogwarts for good."
Once his footsteps had dies away, Harry relaxed and removed the Cloak. "That was close."
Draco nodded in agreement. "Can that cat see through that?" he asked anxiously, pointing to the Cloak.
"I'm not sure. Maybe she can just smell us," replied Harry uncertainly, biting his lip. "I've had more than enough encounters with her."
"Perhaps," agreed Draco, taking several deep breaths to regain his normal breathing pattern. "I don't think I could've held my breath for much longer."
"We were talking about relationships," said Harry. "Anyone you do like, seeing as we've established that you can't bear Pansy?" He grinned mischievously.
Draco hesitated, visibly tensing. "There is, but she wouldn't look twice at me. After all, I'm a Slytherin and a Malfoy." He spat out the two pronouns in disgust. "I wouldn't blame her, if I'm honest. Don't tell anyone, Potter!"
"As long as it's not Cho."
Malfoy shook his head. "Not a Ravenclaw, actually."
Hedwig fluttered in at that moment and settled on a perch near to Harry, a letter tied to her leg. The parchment was poor quality and ink had soaked through to the other side. Harry removed it and unfolded it, reading it in silence.
Harry –
Be cautious – although I can hardly say I'm surprised (this is LM, after all). It sounds as though his child may be right about the thing you mentioned in your last note. And I wouldn't call it a happy home. Hear the child out. Please. He may know more about the topic we discussed last time we met, than he realises.
Good to see Moony back at the school; it's the only safe place for him.
Take care, now.
SHarry glanced up at the other boy. "From my godfather," he said.
"I heard a rumour that your godfather's Sirius Black."
Harry nodded. "He's actually innocent. He tried to kill Peter Pettigrew, who was actually the one who betrayed my parents, but Pettigrew escaped and he was the one who blew up that Muggle street. He was the only murderer that day. Then he went back to his precious master, Voldemort," he spat, his facial expression far beyond loathing. Draco shivered involuntarily; it reminded him of his father's face whenever he looked at an unfortunate house-elf, and Harry using Voldemort's name instead of 'You-Know-Who' certainly did nothing to help matters.
Harry glanced at his watch. "Look, it's gone midnight now. We need to get back to bed. Filch is bound to back up here soon. You don't have an Invisibility Cloak."
Draco shrugged. "I've learned to melt into the shadows and be unseen. It's something you learn if you have Snape as your head-of-house – he's a master of it. Seriously, Harry, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll run for it. I'm faster than Filch and Mrs. Norris."
They parted at the bottom of the tower, Harry to Gryffindor and Draco to Slytherin.
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TBC
Author thanks:
Lucidity: all will become clear in due course. Have patience – this is a 32-chapter fic!!
Riob: my first review!!! Thankies!! This is indeed the really long one I was writing 2 ½ years ago in Year 12 that you read. It's markedly different from that version, though.
Tinorial Peredhil: (takes away sugar) Calm!! There's 30 more chapters to this fic, so make your sugar last! I'll ration it out to you.
The elven princess: I'm pleased about your comment about this being 'different'; it means I'm not doing the standard format for a fic! I hope this continues to appeal to you and that you'll enjoy the whole 32 chapters!
Scribe of Gryffindor: I think I'm averaging about 3,000 words per chapter (this one's 2,800 or so), could you perhaps enlighten me as to where exactly in chapter 1 I'm switching tenses? It may be that I've just hit the 's' key on the keyboard instead of the 'd' key (seeing as they're next to each other it's easily done).
