Chapter Eleven

Draco Malfoy

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Sirius was not hungry that night, and went directly to bed after a tour of his own house. Surprisingly, it had not changed very much. He wondered why. Also that fact that his mother, father, and brother were dead didn't bother him. He knew and he expected it.

He sat on the bed, feeling the stiff, cotton quilt. His House Elf had made it when he was young. He layed his hands on his head, feeling the scar that branded his new forehead, and pushed his hands back through his hairline. Although he didn't get all the way. His hands became entangled his black locks.

"Damnit," he said out loud, disconnecting the hair from his thin fingers. James' fingers. Sirius missed him. He layed down on his old bed, surveying the room, thinking.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Come in," Sirius groaned, slightly peeved someone dared interrupt his important train of thought. But the person who emanated from the door was the last person he, and anyone else for that matter, would expect.

"Hello Harry," Hermione said, eyes burning through Sirius'. Her eyes had a hunger in them; a hunger that neither food nor drink could satisfy. She stared to giggle. "I mean Sirius…" she approached him.

"H-hi," Sirius, the great Sirius stammered.

"I just wanted to see you," she began, taking a spot on the bed around Sirius' abdomen. "To apologize for today."

"No, I'm sorry I made you nervous. I get like that… I mean, not with you, with all girls. Yeah, I'm just… s-shy around all of them," he lied. Hermione wasn't listening. She was staring at Sirius' moving lips.

"I never realized what you looked like at Hogwarts."

"What do you mean? You can't see me…" he looked down, but saw his own hands in the place of Harry's.

She kissed him. Fireworks seemed to go off throughout his body at this moment. His chest was heaving up and down in a fast rhythm. He reached up to stroke her brown hair, but lost his balance.

"OUCH!" yelled Sirius, now lying on the dark, damp floor of his room. He rubbed his forehead. The scar seemed to be sheering in pain. Crap. He thought.

"Who is there?" asked a voice sharply. "Is that you, Dumbledore? Why have you not returned to Hogwarts? School is starting in two days. We have work to do," he lectured.

"I'm not Dumbledore," Sirius said irritably, flipping on the light switch. He was angry that a total of one person had gotten his name right, and that was in a dream.

"What are you doing here, Harry Potter? Did you see more Dementors?" he snickered at his little joke. "Or perhaps blow up your Muggle Aunt?"

"I don't know who that is, I don't have a Muggle Aunt, I've never seen a Dementor in my life, and I'M NOT HARRY POTTER!" Sirius roared, hurling himself on his bed.

"Well, you're a bit nutty if you ask me—"

"Which I wasn't," Sirius spat.

"Since last year when I heard you talking to yourself… very peculiar. And now," he laughed at the thought. "you're saying you aren't Harry Potter?"

"That's right."

"You are Harry Potter."

"NO, FOR GOD'S SAKE MY NAME IS SIRIUS YOU INSANE OLD MAN," Sirius roared.

"Sirius? Sirius Black?" asked the portrait, nearly wetting his picture in excitement. Make that two, Sirius thought.

"Yes."

"That's impossible. You die—"

Just then, Dumbledore and Lupin, followed by Ron barged in.

"Dumbledore!" greeted Sirius' great-great grandfather warmly.

"Good morning," Dumbledore nodded. "I see you met your grandson."

"You believe this Potter boy's cock and bull story?"

"I do," the portrait nodded at him. "Listen, I need you to alert the kitchens to start the feast, send word of new passwords to the Fat Lady among other things," his eyes glinted.

"Ah, yes…" he stepped sideways through his portrait, daring at last glance at Sirius before disappearing. Dumbledore turned to Sirius.

"Now, Mr. Black," said Dumbledore. "School is starting soon, as you just might have heard, so I've taken the liberty of buying your books. Diagon Alley is not safe for you, nor Harry anymore."

"Wh—"

"You must take the Hogwarts train today," Lupin interrupted. "The Portkey is ready."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, robes flaring as he stepped towards the door. Sirius followed. Secretly, he wanted to go back to Hogwarts more badly than ever before. Maybe he wouldn't miss James as much.

Dumbledore lead him down the creaky stairway. Hermione was at the base of the stairs, blushing. Dumbledore pointed to an old picture that was the Portkey. Ron, Padfoot, and Hermione flanked around him.

"Now Sirius," Dumbledore said. "There are a few rules that only apply to you at Hogwarts. Don't be alone; stay with Mr. Wealsey and Ms. Granger. Don't tell anyone you are who you are, and don't leave the grounds," Sirius nodded. "Okay then. One…"

Sirius looked at the picture.

"Two…"

He saw a thin man with untidy black hair and glasses, holding a beautiful redhead at his side. Sirius gasped as he scanned the picture for more that he recognized.

"Three…"

Sirius' feet wiped out from under him, as he toppled through a blurry funnel of time and space. Seconds later, it cleared, and he saw the Hogwarts Express before him. It had never looked so beautiful.

Many students surged towards the bus, careful not to bump into Harry. No one seemed to want to make eye contact with him. Maybe Harry has fleas… or a really bad attitude problem. Sirius guessed.

-xXxXxXxXxXxXx-

On the bus, Ron and Hermione ushered him into an empty compartment, but Sirius hesitated.

"I… I think I'd like to go sit by myself…" Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, but didn't object. Like they didn't want to sit by him either, or had somewhere else to go.

Sirius didn't find another empty compartment, but he did find one that held a round faced boy who was waving at him. Sirius entered, and greeted him.

"Hello Harry," said the boy.

"Hello… erm… hello," Sirius said lamely.

"How was your summer?" he seemed to speak to Harry with a touch of tension in his voice.

"Fine."

"Oh."

"How was yours?"

"Fine."

"Good."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Neville opened his mouth to speak, but there was an interruption at the door. A tall blond boy, with a pointy face and a smirk entered, flanked by two enormously stupid-looking boys.

"Well, if it isn't Potter," the blond drawled. The distain he said in the word 'Potter' was unlike any Sirius had heard. It even bordered his mother's rants on Mudbloods.

"Who are you," Sirius snapped rudely, not looking at him.

"Who am I?" the boy laughed. "I don't dignify stupid questions with answers," he gazed around. "Where's the Mudblood, Granger? All I see is a useless lump, not saying Granger isn't one," his cronies gnaffed.

"Shove off Malfoy," said Neville, teeth clenched.

"Malfoy!" Sirius sprang to his feet, finally looking at the boy. A Malfoy. He bared his teeth, and saw that Malfoy's hand was deep inside his robes, grabbing at something. Sirius had a pretty good idea for what it was.

Both boys whipped their wands out at the same time.

"You die today, Potter,"

"I beg to differ."