Desclaimer: how many times do I have to say this? NOT MINE.

Author's Rambling: well, today I have my math finals! :: shudder:: wish me luck! If my next chapter isn't coming in, say, two weeks, know that I have failed, and thus, commited suppoku to save my honour and dignity.

Just kidding, really. Honestly.

This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has exams, finals, important tests or anything of the sort in the near future. May the force be with you.

Second Chapter, in which there is an opening feast, a first breakfast, a new DADA teacher, and the plot actually begins to unfold.

Or at least, the plot would have begun to unfold if I HAD any plot. Enjoy,either way.

Last thing- Is there anyone interested in doing Beta? Anyone? Just email me if you are.

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The train screeched to a halt. Draco shouldered his bag and rose to his feet, not sparing his companions a glance as he strode out. Pansy hurried after him "Merling, Draco, where's the fire?"

They secured a carriage, Pansy sitting on his left and Blaise on his right; Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent had to squeeze in the opposite bench, looking uncomfortable; Millicent kept muttering that Goyle was jabbing his elbow in her side. Pansy rolled her eyes every time, pretending to be annoyed, and inched a little closer to Draco whenever she did.

When they arrived at the Great Hall and sat down, Draco was still in a foul mood from his encounter with Potter on the train; he could only take comfort in the fact that Potter appeared to be out of sorts himself. He seemed to brighten, though, when Dumbledore introduced the new DADA teacher; Kinglsey something. The grin Potter sent in the man's way made Draco think Potter already knew him. He wondered how they met.

He dug into his food half-heartedly, not really hungry. In lack of anything better to do, he glanced at Potter again. He was saying something to Finnigan, their heads bowed together; after a minute, Potter laughed and shook his head, while Finnigan, looking pleased with himself, nudged him with his shoulder and continued talking. Draco, annoyed for a reason he couldn't really put his finger on, scowled and looked away.

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He was more than a little drowsy when they finally reached their Dormitory. Wanting nothing more than to sleep, he changed clothes, brushed his teeth and got into bed. But despite his weariness, sleep eluded him for a long time, and he tossed and turned for the better part of an hour, while the steady breathing of his dorm members filled the silence around him. When he did fall asleep, his night was restless and full of dreams, though all he could recall at morning was a hazy memory of green eyes.

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He got up early, when the first rays of sunlight were just beginning to seep through the windows, and ran a few laps around the Quidditch Pitch, enjoying the cool morning air, the golden-pink hues of sunrise, and the peace around him. When he got back to the dormitory, Blaise was already awake.

"Where were you?" he squinted at Draco dazedly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Draco shrugged, peeling off his shirt and holding it at arms length critically "out. I'm going to take a shower now, so wake the others, will you?"

He left Blaise muttering darkly, but smirked to himself when he heard him try to wake the others anyway. He took a long shower, the water drowning out Blaise's exasperated yells of "Vincent, wake up, you great lazy bum!". He was already dressed when Blaise appeared at the doorway, clutching a towel and glaring at him; he had finished drying his hair and brushing his teeth when Goyle and Theodore Nott came trudging in, shuffling their large feet awkwardly.

"Hey, wait for me!" Blaise called to him as Draco smoothed his robes in front of the mirror and picked up his bag. Draco glanced at the watch that hung on the wall, deciding he could wait a little more "well, hurry up then". Blaise finished tying his shoelaces and grabbed his bag as well, stuffing his wand into a pocket.

"Right, set to go. I'm starving".

Pansy joined them downstairs, having waited for them, and the three of them walked in a companionable silence up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

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Their schedules arrived a little while after they set down, distributed by a sour looking Professor Snape. Draco thanked him, earning a tight-lipped smile, and glanced at the parchment. He scowled.

"Double Transfiguration, N.E.W.T level, followed by double History of Magic. Then double DADA- are they trying to kill us? Transfiguration and DADA are with the Gryffindors! There's only so much a bloke can take".

Blaise, who wasn't taking Transfiguration, smirked "tough luck, Draco". He looked utterly unsympathetic, and Draco made a face at him.

Pansy, though, let out a very uncharacteristic giggle "oh, I don't know," she said, raising an eyebrow "the view's not that bad".

They both frowned "what?"

Pansy passed her fingers through her hair, smoothing the black locks. "Seen Potter this year?" she said, giggling again "annoying prat, all right, but a very handsome one".

"Pansy!" Draco spluttered, almost spitting out his coffee in shock, while Blaise choked on his eggs. "How can you even- ugh- think that- gah- nightmares for weeks now-"

She gave him an injured look, lifting her nose high in the air "just because I hate him, doesn't mean I can't appreciate his assets, I mean, look at that-mmphh!"

"I swear," Draco gagged, ignoring the girl's glare as she removed the carrot he shoved into her mouth "that if you will say one more word about that four-eyed, lame excuse for a wizard, I will not be responsible for what I will do to you".

"Someone's cranky this morning," Pansy huffed, but dropped the subject.

Draco, deciding his appetite was ruined, at least for the few next hours, drained the last of his cup and stood up. "I'm finished," he told them "I'll see you in Transfiguration".

Blaise waved him off, but Pansy ignored him, instead opting for checking her teeth in her oatmeal spoon.

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The classroom was empty when he arrived. He chose a seat at the back of the class, dropping his bag on the floor carelessly after retrieving his book, Dark Potions. He opened it where he stopped and continued reading. Draco wasn't worried that someone will catch him reading forbidden material- he had placed three strong glamour charms on the book, so anyone looking at him would think he was reading "Hogwarts, a History; Recent Addition".

Almost an hour passed in silence, the dry rustle of turning pages the only sound in the classroom, before Draco was disturbed by the sound of loud footsteps, nearing the classroom.

He didn't raise his eyes from the book, concentrating on looking totally relaxed, but in truth his ears were straining to hear every tiny noise.

More then two sets of footsteps, he thought, as he listened to the uneven pace. Probably three. A high voice- must be a girl- and a very low one- a male, low enough to be one of the sixth years. The third, though…

Then they stopped next to the closed door, and Draco recognized the girl's voice. Granger. He felt a tiny smile of satisfaction curling his lips at his correct deduction; three students, sixth years, a girl and two boys.

Go me, he thought, and turned a page.

The door opened, the hinges creaking, and the Golden Trio, as the school dubbed them, entered. They didn't notice Draco right away, as they were arguing in loudly.

"Merlin, Ron, don't be an idiot!" Granger said, placing her bag on a desk in the front row. Her back was turned to him, her hands on her hips. Weasley was looking at her darkly, his wide mouth twisted like he had just eaten something foul.

Potter came in after them, looking annoyed, but made no attempt to break the argument. He sat on a desk near them, his face in profile to Draco.

"Don't call me an idiot!" Weasley thundered.

Draco ignored them and studied Potter carefully from behind the safety of his book. He looks tired, he thought. Potter had dark circles under his eyes, as though he didn't sleep well. Draco felt smug about it; if he had a restless night, it was only fair Potter had one too.

Pansy's words surfaced then, and he scowled. Attractive? That? Potter's hair was messy and too long, some strands spilling over the collar of his robes. As the boy raised a hand to touch his forehead, his mouth tightening briefly in an almost invisible grimace, Draco caught a glimpse of his wrist.

Ha, he thought, he has wrists like a girl. I can probably circle them with my fingers! How is that attractive?

He closed his fingers around his own wrist, and frowned, feeling cheated somehow, as his fingers circled it without effort. He raised his eyes again, irritated. Well, Potter was scrawny, anyway. Draco was just slender.

It was than that Potter noticed Draco; he tensed, his eyes narrowing, and put a hand on Granger's arm, shaking his head. Granger and Weasley turned, surprise melting into scowls as they saw him.

Draco smirked at them and returned to his reading.

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Harry and the others got off the train and into a carriage. The Thestrals turned their heads after Harry as he passed them, their white eyes following him silently, and he shivered. One or two even tried to nudge him with their bony noses, as though asking to be patted.

They entered the Great Hall and took seats; Harry found himself between Seamus and Ron. The Irish boy greeted him cheerfully, and Harry felt a little better. Everything was in the past, or so it seemed, and although Harry still remembered the time Seamus accused him of lying about Voldemort, he had forgiven him a long time ago.

Dumbledore made a small speech, about the victims Voldemort claimed during the last two months. Harry glared at him all the while, his resentment and mistrust in the old wizard growing as the minutes ticked by.

Plays us like pawns, he thought bitterly. Uses us, keeps us in the dark when he deems us unworthy of knowing things, important things, even if they have to do with us.

Even if it has to do with what is, apparently, my destiny.

Conversation resumed almost as soon as he Dumbledore finished talking, the unease broken by the introduction of the new DADA teacher. Harry was delighted to find it was Kingsley Shackelbolt, who had come to appreciate a great deal the year before.

He grinned at him, his depression ebbing away as Kingsley smiled at him in return.

"He looks scary," Seamus said good-naturedly, pausing in his eating as he caught the exchange.

"Kingsley?" Harry asked. "Nah, he's wicked".

"You know him?"

Harry hesitated, not sure how much he was supposed to say. He settled on something that was common knowledge; surely, that was all right?

"He's an Auror. Or was, until now".

"Really?" Seamus whistled, "Looks like one. I wouldn't want to get on his bad side".

Harry, who had seen Kingsley in action, agreed with him whole-heartedly.

"Well, he'll be pro-Gryffindor, then, wouldn't he?" Seamus said, and winked. Harry laughed, "If you're hoping that he'll torment the Slytherins, you're in for a disappointment. He's quite fair, really".

"Well, one can always hope," Seamus sighed, then nudged Harry "ha?"

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Harry was very tired when they finally finished the opening feast and left for Gryffindor Tower. He collapsed gratefully on his bed, face down, arms and legs spread wide.

"Hmm…" he said, his voice muffled because of the blankets "I missed this".

Ron grabbed the back of his robes, pulling him up. "Come on, Harry, brush your teeth first".

Seamus snickered as Ron steered a half-asleep Harry towards the bathroom. "What are you? His mother?"

His smile vanished, though, when Ron closed the door after Harry, and answered quietly "well, someone has to take care of him".

None of them said anything as Harry shuffled out of the bathroom, bid them goodnight, and toppled into bed, falling asleep on the covers.

They were surprised when Neville, who was the closest, walked over and pulled the blankets from under him, tucking him carefully in. Harry made a soft noise and snuggled into his pillow, and Neville turned to look at them, shrugging.

"Yeah," he said, smiling at Ron. "Someone has to".

No further conversations were held, except for the mumbled "night", but Dean stopped by and removed Harry's glasses, folding them neatly and placing them on the nightstand beside his four-poster, and Seamus closed his bed-hangings, half-way, on his way to the shower, because they all knew Harry liked waking up to the sunlight but hated having the sun in his eyes.

They all reached a decision that night, although they would never actually voice it aloud; they would take care of Harry, so he, in turn, would be able to take care of them.

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Harry woke up to Ron shaking him. He blinked at him, dazed, seeing a red mop above a large, pinkish stain. Ron jammed his glasses on his nose.

"Morning, Harry!" he said cheerfully "time to get up".

Harry closed his eyes and buried his head under his covers. He was so very tired; his dreams were filled with staring, accusing faces, wide, empty eyes, and gray. He wanted nothing more then to go back to sleep, and no dreams this time.

Then his ankle was grabbed, and he was pulled unceremoniously out of bed. "Ngh!" he protested, but to no avail; Ron shook his head, his eyes twinkling, although Harry could see he was trying not to laugh, and shoved him in the direction of the showers.

"I hate you," Harry told him childishly, glaring, but went anyway.

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He found all his dorm mates waiting for him downstairs, along with Hermione and Ginny.

"What is this?" he laughed, "a personal escort?"

They walked down to breakfast, Harry feeling lighter than he felt since that night at the department of mysteries. Around him his friends laughed and joked, teasing one another (Seamus, mostly) and making crude comments (again, mostly Seamus, including one that caused Harmione to drop her book and gasp "Seamus!" while the rest of them turned a dark red).

He really was lucky to have them all, he knew. And he was going to protect them, even if it was going to be at the cost of his life.

Schedules were handed out as they set down. Harry glanced at his, forgetting his untouched breakfast "double transfiguration, then double Charms and Double DADA, all N.E.W.T. level! How am I supposed to survive this?"

Ron winced "that's not the worst of it, Harry. Transfiguration and DADA are with the Slytherins".

"What!?" Harry said. Four hours of jabs and taunts and mockery. It was going to be hell.

"Well," Ron said, trying to sound encouraging "look at it this way; maybe you'll get to duel Malfoy. We could all use a little entertainment".

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, looking up from her newspaper disapprovingly. "You're better than that".

Ron's ears turned red. Seamus sniggered, than yelped in pain as both Ron and Dean kicked him, one from each side.

"Ow!" he complained. Hermione, oblivious, was back to her newspaper.

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They finished with a few minutes to spare, after Ron and Dean supervised Harry's plate and made sure he ate. He, Ron and Hermione hurried forward, as the others were delayed for a little.

Harry was walking a little behind them, lost in thought, as they argued. Hmm, he thought, as he looked out of a window they passed, I never noticed how nice the lake looks from here. And that tree; was it always there? It gives a lot of shade; probably a nice place to sit, when it's warmer.

"I wonder if we can get Kingsley to show us special Auror tricks," Ron wondered as they entered the classroom.

"Merlin, Ron, don't be an idiot!" Hermione said, claiming a seat near the front. Ron bristled as she continued "that's classified stuff, of course he wouldn't show us anything of the sort".

Ron's face darkened, and Harry sighed, feeling exhausted and dizzy all of the sudden. He sat down on a table near them.

"Don't call me an idiot!" Ron said angrily.

A small headache was appearing. And a slight twinge of his scar, just barely. Harry frowned, raising his hand to his forehead. It wasn't Voldemort, he was sure of that; it was something else, not so much a feeling as a sense, an idea. And it was coming from the back of the classroom…

Harry raised his head and found Draco Malfoy looking at him. The blonde was sitting at the back of the classroom, his legs crossed on the table, staring at Harry over the cover of a book with an irritated expression on his sharp face.

Harry narrowed his eyes; when did he get here? He touched Hermione's arm, breaking the argument, as she and Ron both turned to glare at Malfoy. The Slytherin smirked at them and resumed reading.

Harry frowned at the book. It made his headache grow stronger, a faint buzz appearing as he concentrated on the book. But that was ridicules, wasn't it? It was just a book, and a boring one at that, judging from the title.

The words blurred as he read them, briefly; he shook his head to clear it and looked away. He must be more tired than he thought, if the book smudged around the edges like that when he looked at it. He was imagining things.

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Draco fought the urge to frown as Potter stared at his book. It almost made him think the glamours weren't working, but no; both Weasley and Granger seemed uninterested, so the charms must've been successful.

Potter was probably just wondering why Draco would bother to read such a boring book.

The rest of the class started filing in then; loud voices and the sound of chairs being dragged across the floor filled the room, and Draco, realizing he wouldn't be able to concentrate anymore, marked the page and put the book away.

Kingsley came in then, and the chatter died immediately; he was an intimidating man, and no student wanted to get on his bad side on the first day.

Draco was unimpressed. He knew Kingsley was there, in the department of mysteries, the night his father was exposed. He knew Kingsley was in one league with Dumbledore. Now that he thought about it, that was probably how Potter knew him; Dumbledore must've called for a favor, for Kingsley to take a break of his Auror job in a time like this, and come teach at Hogwarts.

Kingsley was reading names, pausing after every name to glance at the student mentioned.

"Malfoy, Draco," he said, and raised his head, looking directly at Draco. Draco held his gaze without flinching, keeping his face cold and detached. He expected a sneer, a flare of the nostrils, a smart remark, even, but the Auror just looked at him, expressionless, before marking him down and moving on.

When he called Potter's name, though, he looked at him for an instant longer than everyone else, and although his face hasn't changed, Draco, who was watching him intently, saw worry flaring in his eyes before he turned away.

Well, he thought to himself, Potter's got himself a bodyguard, or so it would seem.

Kingsley then put the parchment away and introduced himself. When he was sure they all got his name, he continued.

"This year, Defense Against the Dark Arts is a N.E.W.T. class- that is to say, the spells and curses you will learn will be far harder and far more dangerous then what you have encountered so far. This is no children play. Those of you who feel they will not be able to handle some of what we will learn- and I promise you, it isn't going to be easy- are free to leave now, and ask for an exchange in their classes".

He passed his dark gaze over them, seeming satisfied when no one moved a muscle.

"Now, will someone please tell me what you have learnt the previous year? Yes, Miss MacDougal"…

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The rest of the lesson passed in a blur of information and the scratching of parchments; despite his intense dislike for the man, as he was part of the force that captured his father, Draco knew he was going to be a good teacher. There was no point in sulking- he needed every hex and curse he could learn.

Know your enemies, Draco, his father once told him, and Draco planned to do just that. He already noticed two very important things about Shacklebolt; he seemed a very detached person, very professional- angering him to make him careless wouldn't work.

But more important was the fact that he didn't seem wary of his students, not even Draco, whose father was a known Death Eater. Confidence can be the death of you, Lucius taught Draco once, although he hadn't listened to his own advice. If you were too confident, you could be surprised when you least expected it.

Watch out, Shacklebolt, Draco thought as he left the classroom, fuming silently. I'll get you, in the end. All of you.

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Seven pages. Woot.