A/N: I was already into research mode and looking at the books when I realized that Harry had missed the sorting during his second and third years. So I said 'okay, no names of prefects'. I think I know one of them. The other research, which actually panned out, was for head boy. I know you all expected to see Draco as head boy and were quite content with that, but that whole entire thing has been so so soooooooo overplayed. So I decided he's not Head Boy in this story. Don't worry. He's still in it excessively. Now I think I need to write this chapter.
I find it difficult to write Draco's POV in character, since the only side of his character that JK ever developed is the bully side. So it took me a while to finish this chapter. I try to keep him in the character that several different fanfiction writers have developed for him, since that means he actually has some. Other than that, I'm adding my own new twist to it, though you've all probably seen it before. But enough of that, on with the story!!
The Negative Side
Predictable
Draco Malfoy felt cold. It was only the first day of September, but he was cold. He took one of his traveling cloaks from the wardrobe and threw it over his shoulders. He was about to call for one of the house-elves when one appeared before him.
"Haven't I told you to knock before doing that? I don't want you popping in here if I'm not dressed." He crossed his arms and looked down at the apologetic elf.
"Stubby is sorry, Master, but Master is dressed, sir." Stubby was wringing his hands, waiting for more scolding.
"Forget it," Draco said. "What do you want?"
"Sir, if Master does not leave now he will miss his train, sir. Does Master want Stubby to bring Master's things to the Floo-hearth, sir?"
"Yes, I suppose. Do that. You know, Stubby, you shouldn't say 'sir' so often. It gets tiring."
"Stubby agrees with Master, of course. Stubby will try to do what Master suggests." A second later, the elf and Draco's luggage were gone. Draco looked at the spot where they had been, then shook his head as he left his bedroom. It was the nature of house-elves to be meek and impressionable, but he would like to meet just one that talked back and had opinions of its own.
"Narcissa!" Draco called when he neared the dining room. His parents would be just finishing their breakfast. They always ate at the same time, every morning without fail. "Lucius?"
"How many times have I told you not to shout like that, Draco?" Narcissa asked in a tone that implied that she did not want an answer. She took a dainty sip of steaming tea.
"Forgive me, Narcissa." He had never used endearments with his parents, nor they with him, as far as he could remember. Their relationship remained utterly formal. "I just thought of letting the two of you know that I am leaving for the train to school."
"Have you had breakfast?" Narcissa asked.
"Yes," he lied. "I had some in my room. You know me and breakfast."
Narcissa regarded him, then turned back to the table. "Goodbye, then."
He nodded in response. "Goodbye, Lucius," he said.
His father did not respond. Narcissa looked up at her husband. "Lucius, your son is speaking to you."
Lucius cleared his throat. "Goodbye," he forced out. Draco nearly forgot to hide his resentment of Lucius's attitude as he turned and left. He hurried to the Floo-hearth. They had one fireplace in the entire manor that was connected to the Floo Network. Lucius had explained to him a few years ago that it was much easier to monitor who entered - and left - the manor.
"Stubby has Master's things, sir," said Stubby when Draco arrived.
"Good. I'll take them from here, Stubby."
"Master is too good to Stubby. But Stubby must return to work, sir."
"Go on." Once again, Stubby disappeared. Draco took hold of his trunk and some Floo powder. He flung it into the fireplace, called out, "Platform nine and three quarters!" When he had picked up his owl's cage, he stepped in.
Coming out of the grate, Draco coughed only slightly. Otherwise, his composure was perfect. He quickly summoned a trolley to wheel his luggage to the train. Of course, as he was approaching the door, who should interfere in his path but Potter. "Watch it," he growled. "If my owl gets rustled, I have no problem blaming you."
Instead of replying, Potter gave him a surprised look. Draco ignored him and continued to find a compartment for his things. Soon, he had found Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode in one compartment. "Draco, I've been waiting for you," Pansy exclaimed. "We've got to go to the prefect's compartment. Put your trunk away, and we'll be on our way."
They walked through the corridor together, her arm linked through his. She regaled him with some details of her summer, to which he attempted to listen. He had given up by the time they reached the prefect's compartment. Hermione raised an eyebrow when they entered. He raised one back, and she said abruptly, "You're late."
Draco sat, shrugging. The meeting began. Hermione, unsurprisingly, was the Head Girl, and the Head Boy was a Ravenclaw named Anthony Goldstein. The rest of the meeting consisted of going over rules, duties and schedule. He had heard this numerous times. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. It wasn't as though anyone but Parkinson would address him directly, anyway.
"I have some more stuff to look over. You go, Ginny. I'll catch up soon." That was the next thing he heard. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find that the meeting was over.
"Draco, are you coming?" Parkinson asked sweetly.
Because he was a Malfoy, he did not roll his eyes at her. "Not at the moment. Go on and tell the others I'll be there in a minute. Just go, Pansy." She pursed her lips hesitantly. Then, she turned decisively on her heel. As she stalked away, Draco's gaze left her and settled on Hermione Granger. "Shouldn't you already be in your uniform?" he asked.
She glared at him. "You were napping during the meeting."
"Hey, that was almost an accusation. Hold on to your wig." Draco held his hands up defensively.
"My what?"
"Calm down. I was only kidding. Gods, Granger, you're too easy."
Hermione glared again. "You need to be setting an example for the new prefects. If you don't pay attention during the meetings, they'll think they don't have to."
"I'm flattered you were watching me, Granger," he replied sarcastically.
"I am trying to be serious!"
"And almost succeeding."
She sighed angrily. Draco could swear he saw steam coming out her nose. "You might have gotten away with this kind of thing before, but now we're not - like that anymore. I'm Head Girl, and you should be showing me some respect."
He felt his smirk grow. "I knew it was about that. You know, if you want to continue with our trysts that badly…"
"Shhh! No. I really don't. Anyway, you were the one who ended it, remember? You think you can do that, then I'll come running back to you whenever you feel like it?" She crossed her arms. He was still seated, and she was standing.
"Listen, Granger. I wasn't getting anything out of it, really. I thought we'd go farther than that, but you wouldn't let me. After a while, there was nothing new about it. You're just so predictable."
She laughed. "I really can't stand you. I never could."
"Then why did you stay with me for so long?"
Hermione did not reply. He tilted his head in a waiting gesture. She huffed and left the compartment quickly. Draco laughed quietly, until a tiny voice in his head reminded him that he had also stayed with her.
Shut up, he told it. No one asked you.
He was just getting to his feet when another Slytherin joined him. "I've been looking for you. We have something to talk about."
"Hello, Blaise. You certainly have a flair for dramatic greetings."
"Sorry, but this is kind of important."
"If it's that important, it can wait until we're in the dorm. I always put a silencing charm on my room. It's the safest place to talk. I think I have some idea of the subject, so it's best to wait."
Blaise nodded, then jerked his head toward the door. "You want to get back to Crabbe and Goyle?"
Draco considered. "Nope. Let's stay here for a while. There are a few hours left until we arrive at Hogwarts." Blaise closed the door, then sat across from Draco.
"How are your parents?" Blaise asked.
"Proper as ever. Come on, Blaise. That the best you can do?"
"Fine. You got any yet?" He smirked at Draco.
"Smirking's my thing, Blaise. Stop trying to be me." Blaise laughed. "Besides, why should I tell you? Or, more to the point, why do you think I would tell you the truth?"
Blaise shrugged. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and looked up at the ceiling. "I've got a few bottles with me. They're labeled as hair care stuff, but I remember which ones are which."
"Good for later," Draco said. "I need something to make the first day worthwhile."
"As always," added Blaise. "Well, I have a full bottle of Raw Trindle. I think it fits for back to school, don't you?"
Draco shook his head and laughed. Blaise laughed with him. It must have released something that he had been holding in for a while, because he laughed for quite a while, even after Blaise had stopped.
A pile of snacks from the lunch cart and a long, wide-ranging conversation later, Draco and Blaise left the prefect's compartment. They joined Crabbe and Goyle and the others, where new insults for Potter were brewing.
"A return to the mundane," Draco said quietly to Blaise. His response was a short nod and a look of intense agreement. "So, what've you got, Crabbe?"
"Hang on," the huge boy answered. Both Crabbe and Goyle, who had been large during their first year, had grown considerably. Now, in their seventh year, they more closely resembled Hagrid in size than seventeen year old boys.
"How about 'poncy four-eyed bugger'? I know it's not the most original, but it always seems to get people mad if you call them poncy." That was Bulstrode, turning the attention toward her. Pansy joined in then, and the two of them battled for the title of Supreme Insultor. Eventually, they asked Draco what he thought.
"Hey, this is your problem. Don't get me into it, you all know I'll never tell you whose insults I like anyway." He glanced at Blaise, who was grinning at him in amusement. His look was one of I-won't-get-between-you-and-your-girls. Draco glared.
A very short time later, the train ground to a halt. The six occupants of the compartment stood, then hurried off the train. Draco and Blaise climbed into one of the horseless carriages and shut the door to everyone else. When they were moving, Draco asked, "Is it about the DM?"
Blaise nodded. "My father spoke to me on the subject sometime in July. Did yours tell you the new plan?"
"He did. I was surprised. It certainly doesn't help us with our plan."
They cut the conversation short, saving it for after the feast, when everyone else would be occupied with their full stomachs and their welcoming dorm four-posters. They watched other students through the windows of the carriages, gesticulating animatedly and laughing at remarks that were most likely not funny.
"Any wager on the new Defense professor?" Draco asked suddenly.
"Why, what happened to Macatha?" Ariella Macatha had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during their sixth year.
"Honestly, where were you during the last week of school? She ran off with that Janin bloke, to Mexico, I think," sneered Draco.
"Mexico? Why would she want to go there?"
Draco shrugged, looking out the window. "Beats me. But come on, new professor! What do you think?"
Blaise ran his fingers through his hair. It was a habit of his that Draco had always found annoying; no one should touch their hair that often. However, a surprising number of girls were fond of this quirk. "Hmm… well, it's obvious that they won't last more than a year. As for what's wrong with the new one… ah, disturbing obsession with elbows?"
Laughing, Draco jumped to the ground, and Blaise followed. "Where did that come from?" he asked.
"Well, we've had an idiot, a werewolf, a wacko, and another wacko. We're about due for something scary but harmless, wouldn't you say?"
"I assume the two wackos are Moody and Umbridge?" inquired Draco as they climbed the stairs. Blaise nodded.
"Draco!" a voice called out. It was Parkinson and the rest of them, just out of their carriage. "Why didn't you wait for us?"
Draco rolled his eyes toward Blaise, who grinned. "Forgot," he muttered in their direction. They caught up, and the six Slytherins entered the Great Hall. Home away from home, Draco thought, taking his usual place at his House table. Blaise sat directly across from him. Goyle sat on one side of Draco; Parkinson, clinging to his arm, on the other.
Once everyone had been seated, the first years were brought in, McGonagall in the lead. Draco glanced at each of the new students briefly as they passed. At Hogwarts there were many names he did not know, but he could pick any face out of the crowd. He had always been disproportionately proud of this skill; he knew it was useful in some situations, but in others there was no need for it. Anyone who asked would be told that it was one of the best things you could be good at.
The Sorting Hat recited its traditional Introduction To Itself. It was long-winded and Draco was distracted by the Gryffindor table. Potter and Weasley were sitting facing him, trying not to stare at a brunette sitting across from them. Draco couldn't tell who she was.
The Sorting began. McGonagall called the names, last name first, as always. Each first year student walked nervously to the stool and sat, many of them so short their toes did not reach the ground. The hat was placed on their head, then the tear in the brim would open, and the Sorting Hat would yell out their House. Draco never really paid attention to this aspect of the start-of-term feast. Instead, he and his… friends conversed quietly.
"Do any of you recognize that girl sitting across from Potter and Weasley?" he asked in low tones.
Pansy peered over heads to see, and Blaise turned in his seat for a moment. "I think it's Granger," he said after turning back.
"No way," Pansy exclaimed, a bit louder than was proper. "She could never get her hair to look like that."
"Well, remember the Yule Ball?" Millicent countered, a hint of reluctance in her voice. "And they've come out with all kinds of new hair-taming spells since then. Maybe she's just decided to work on her looks."
"But it doesn't even look like her," Draco complained quietly.
The others looked askance at him. "Draco, you're seeing her from behind. How can you tell?"
The question just barely registered with him. He did not pay close enough attention to know who had asked. He shrugged in response, peering closely at the Gryffindor table. He saw Potter get the girl's attention and nod in his direction. She swiveled, revealing her identity to them all. It took all of Draco's willpower to keep from gaping at her. She smiled just slightly, then turned her back on him.
"I win," said Blaise triumphantly.
"Oh, sod off," Draco snapped.
"Zirino, Matthew" became a Ravenclaw and joined the Ravenclaw table. Dumbledore stood, spread his arms, and said, "Welcome. I would like to commence the feast with a few words: eat up."
As soon as the feast appeared, Draco forgot all about Granger and concentrated on the food. Even the house-elves at Malfoy Manor were not as adept at food preparation as the Hogwarts elves.
The seat next to Snape at the staff table was vacant. Registering this, Draco's chewing slowed. After swallowing, he said, "Hey, Blaise, check out the Defense professor."
Blaise looked up, glanced toward the staff table. "Invisible. Well, that I would not have guessed."
Draco chuckled, then grimaced. Malfoys did not chuckle. "Do you think they could find someone willing to take the job? It's got quite a reputation."
"Hopefully. They can't not teach Defense," Blaise said. He noticed the surprised looks, and the one warning look from Draco, and added, "Just saying. Dumbledore would teach it himself before scrapping it from the curriculum."
Draco mouthed, "watch it", and Blaise gave a slight sign that he got it. The others remained oblivious that any sign of suspicious behavior had just transpired as the last remnants of dessert disappeared from the platters. Dumbledore rose, gesturing for silence. The room, unsurprisingly, quieted.
"Welcome, first years, and all other years as well! I sincerely hope you will enjoy your school year. As always, I remind you that the Forbidden Forest on the school grounds is actually forbidden, and not just severely named. A list of banned items can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, but only between the hours of six and seven in the evening. I also must ask you not to swim in the lake without informing one of the Professors first."
"As some of you might have noticed, your Defense professor is absent. He could not be here tonight, but he asked me to do an introduction nonetheless. For the duration of the year, the Defense Against Dark Arts professor will be Remus Lupin, who held that same position four years ago. I am counting on all the students to make him as welcome as possible." Raising his eyebrows, Draco exchanged glances with Blaise. He couldn't believe Lupin had come back.
Dumbledore finished his speech, sending them off to their dorms. On the way to the dungeons, Draco told Blaise in an undertone, "Can't let anyone think we're plotting something. We'll be seen in the common room for half an hour, maybe. Then, come to my room."
"Right," Blaise responded.
"Oh, Draco, how are you feeling?" Pansy simpered.
"Fine," he said slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"You ate so much tonight, you know. I thought you might have a stomach ache."
Draco took in a huge, annoyed breath. "No, I'm just fine."
"Oh. Well, that's good." Blaise coughed before Draco could nonverbally scold him for laughing. Draco settled for gritting his teeth, and did not speak as Pansy sniveled - there was no other word for it - all the way to the common room.
Inside, they settled down on the leather sofas, Parkinson as close to Draco as she could get. Conversations were held, to which Draco did not contribute. He was too busy holding his own mental talk with himself.
What is going on with Pansy? She's always been rather clingy, true, but this is beyond extreme. Even for her, and that's quite something. What, does she think we'll be getting together or something? Ugh, that's just… wrong.
Eventually, he managed to extricate himself from the grasp of Pansy Parkinson. It took many yawns and five claims of being too tired to concentrate on anything until the morning, and they did have classes the next day. She pouted, but released his arm. Draco took the opportunity to retreat to his room.
"Ah, prefect-ness," he sighed upon entering.
"Like having your own room, huh?"
"Bloody hell, Blaise, don't sneak up on a guy like that. At least give me a minute to settle in." He turned away, but caught Blaise's silent laughing in the mirror above the small table in the corner. "I saw that."
Immediately, Blaise stopped. "So," he said, clearing his throat, "ready for it?"
Draco spun to face him just as he removed the Raw Trindle from wherever he had been keeping it. He held out his hand, motioning for Blaise to hand him the bottle. No sooner did it reach his hand than he had it open and took a long swig. He smacked his lips at the end of it.
"Good stuff, right?" Blaise said with a smile. He drank about half the bottle in fifteen seconds.
"Damn, have you been practicing over the summer?"
"Well, gotta do something." He passed the bottle to Draco again. "You know, while the old man's out doing Voldie's bidding."
"And he explained to you about the mark." Blaise nodded. Draco drank for a moment before continuing. "I was shocked to hear that he's planning to change it. Dark Lords don't tend to change their ways, especially when the current methods more or less work."
"The age requirement was more of a surprise to me. Voldemort's never accepted anyone under twenty-one. Changing the age to seventeen? You know that means they'll expect us to do it right after we get out this year."
Draco nodded. "Lucius told me Voldemort was even considering sixteen. Wanted to have real spies inside Hogwarts to check up on Dumbledore and the other Order members. Man, this is good. Do you have any more?"
"No," Blaise laughed, "but I can get some easily."
"Blaise," Draco said, sobering for a minute, "you and I still think the same way about Voldemort, right?"
"Unless you've changed your mind."
"Well, we've got to really think, then. Because Lucius has implied many times that he has orders to kill me if I refuse to do what his Lord wants."
Blaise's face was hard. "I have a similar situation," he said.
Draco yawned, this time for real. "Disappointing, this is. I've just had some of the best alcohol available, and I'm too tired to enjoy it. I'll just go to bed and have a hangover tomorrow morning."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Draco. Drink some water, that should help with the headache." He set the bottle down on the bedside table. "There's still a bit left. I'll leave it for you."
"How thoughtful. Goodnight. Try to come up with some ideas before you go to sleep. I don't want to be doing all the work here."
"I won't go into how unwarranted that remark was, as you are far too tired." Blaise saluted as he closed the door. Draco shook his head, then proceeded to undress for bed. He climbed in between the sheets and let his head fall to the pillow.
A few minutes went by before he quickly sat up, searching beside him for the bottle of Raw Trindle, and chugged what was left down as quickly as his esophagus would allow. The next time his face hit the pillow, he was already asleep, drunken-stupor style.
…TBC…
Just review, okay?
