Time shows us that all that ever mattered
all that ever mattered leaves us in the cold
if you ever believe this is what you need
it will spin around and shatter
&&&
Harry Potter stepped into the large school. His stomach was alive with butterflies and he was sure he might just blow chunks everywhere. Harry had always been a nervous person. His Uncle Vernon's abuse tactics might've had something to do with it. They probably did. None of that matter anymore, though. Harry hadn't seen Uncle Vernon for years – not since he was eleven. He no longer needed to fill his mind up with thoughts that no longer should consume him. They only made him more nervous. He had gotten saved – just let it drop.
Swallowing down the memories, Harry slowly moved his feet forward, eyes looking around in awe. Sure, he had known St. James – A high school mostly known for it's art curriculum but taught every subject as well – was a superior school and, sure, he knew it would be huge but, he hadn't really expected it to be…huge. Harry didn't get out much, that's for sure. He moved forward a bit more, taking in his surroundings. Studied the other students. There were so many people. There were more people in here than Harry was used to see, that's for sure. Harry forced his feet to keep on moving, not aware of where he was supposed to be going.
Sighing, he reached into his shoulder bag, looking through the disorganized mess to find a sheet of paper that would tell him exactly where to go. A few people brushed shoulders with him as they sped past him and he'd jump slightly at the contact. He wasn't a person who much liked touching. He finally retrieved the paper, sighing with relief, and unfolded it. First class – art. He fought down more butterflies as he strode down the long, seemingly endless corridors looking for the room that was typed on his sheet of paper. A few seconds later two students seemed to appear out of nowhere, bright smiles on their faces.
"Harry Potter?"
"Y-Yeah, that's m-me."
"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley. We were told there was going to be a new student coming in today and were asked to accompany you, you know, since you're new."
Harry offered them a smile.
"That'd be great."
The two smiled back at him. They seemed friendly. They were friendly. Harry offered them the room he was looking for. On the way to his destination the girl, Hermione, asked a lot of questions, though, she made him comfortable while she did so. Harry told her what she wanted to know – he had gotten in on a scholarship, he sang and played the electric guitar and did a little bit of painting as well. He was also good in mathematics. Hermione played the piano and Ron quickly told him that he specialized in English and art.
The two dropped him off in his assigned room – the art room.
"We'll see you at lunch, Harry."
So, the day hadn't started off badly – Harry hadn't expected it.
&&&
Harry hadn't talked to anyone when he had joined the other classmates behind the door. He wished that the two students he had just met were also joining him. Swallowing, Harry made his way towards a seat. He almost made it but, alas, the teacher had to speak. The next five minutes were spent with introducing Harry to some of the students in the class. Afterwards, blushing and stumbling, Harry headed to an easel as far away from the front of the classroom as possible. He quickly hid his extremely short form behind it hoping he wouldn't make an embarrassment out of himself.
The he dropped a carton of paint.
Dammit.
&&&
"How were your first classes?"
Harry shrugged. After he had dropped the carton of red paint on the floor he had been thoroughly embarrassed. It hadn't been a big carton but it had caused everyone's attention to be on him. Attention was just something that Harry didn't like and something he wasn't used to. It freaked him out a bit, he'd admit. Seconds later, Harry blushing and muttering that he was sorry a thousand times, a blond stooped down on the floor next to him to help him clean up the mess.
He had been the most gorgeous man Harry had ever seen.
Harry became a blushing and stuttering mess all over again – butterflies working overtime – but he had managed a smile and thanks. The floor was cleaned up in no time and the blond had introduced himself as Draco Malfoy and held his hand out for a polite shake. Harry, not one to be rude, returned the shake. This Draco Malfoy had very nice hands. They were soft and warm and…just nice. The whole class Harry had willed himself not to look in the direction of Draco the rest of the class period. So, when he ran to the English classroom he had been very peeved to see that Draco was in that class as well.
After English, History.
Draco was in there too.
Then French – He was there.
Then Chemistry – who was there? Him.
What had he done to deserve this? However, Draco hadn't made any attempts to talk to him again for which Harry was glad. It didn't make it necessarily easier to pay attention in class, though.
"They were ok. The teachers seem nice."
"If you pay attention and do your assignments, they're nice."
Harry thanked Hermione for the warning as he pulled a sandwich out of his shoulder bag. He didn't carry a lunch box – that kind of seemed elementary to him. Plus, he wasn't exactly going to ask Mrs. Figg to buy him one. They were running low on money as it was. Mrs. Figg had been watching Harry ever since Harry had been taken out of the Dursely's home when he was eleven. She had come to America with him when he had been transferred here. She wasn't wealthy but she had enough to make it through. There home was small but tidy and livable.
Harry couldn't really ask for anything more.
Ron spoke next, mouth full of food.
"What class do you have next?"
It came out a lot more garbled than that. Harry pulled out his schedule, "Music." Ron nodded. "You'll like that class. I mean, since you sing." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, Ron, that is music." Ron ignored her and continued happily talking to Harry. "Mr. Binns is nice too. Probably the nicest teacher here."
Despite the comfort – he was still nervous.
&&&
Music is the last period, for him, of the day. Lo and behold, Mr. Gorgeous-Blond is there as well. He doesn't walk over and say hi, Harry's not that daring. Instead, he just cowers in a seat near the back of a room. Damn his nerves. Damn his past for making his nerves be…damned. He doesn't escape the teacher's hawk-like eyes. Mr. Binns finds him in about five seconds flat and there he goes, welcoming him and willing him to sit up in the front with the other students. Harry, albeit stubbornly, slides out of his seat and stiffly walks towards the front row.
"You can sit here if you want…"
That's the second time that Draco has spoken to him today. Harry offers him a small smile and quickly nods his head. Sitting next to someone who has spoken to him twice is better than sitting next to a complete stranger. "T-thanks." Harry quickly wondered if Draco thought he had a speech impediment. He didn't usually stutter. When in larger crowds, however, on top of all his frayed nerves – well, stutter mode is quickly slipped on for the rest of the day. Harry's sure he'll be better tomorrow. Draco quickly nods, offering Harry his own little reassuring smile.
"So, Harry, what do you do?"
Harry is sure Mr. Binns already knows – he's probably just trying to make him feel more comfortable. Harry shifted in his seat, his mouth suddenly very dry. He drew in a deep breath and told himself that if he stuttered he was going to kill himself. Not really, of course. He wasn't really the suicidal type but if he stuttered again…Harry would be very upset about it. "I sing and play electric guitar." He suddenly realized he was gripping the armrests of the seat so hard that it was starting to hurt and his knuckles were a very pale white. He loosened his grip and quickly put his hands in his lap where his fingers began to fiddle with the hem of his uniform shirt.
He really didn't like the uniforms.
Starch shirts, ironed black pants and ties.
"Excellent. Seeing that it's your first day, however, I won't make you show us your talents today. We'll just let you relax."
Relax – was there such a thing?
&&&
Harry did relax when he reached home.
Mrs. Figg was waiting eagerly for him at the door when he arrived. "So, how was the first day?" Harry shrugged and ducked into his room to set his shoulder bag down. On his way out he loosened the tie around his neck and sat down at the table. Mrs. Figg was pouring him a glass of milk. She had been baking today – probably because it was Harry's first day at a new school or whatever. She handed him a plate of cookies. "It was alright, I guess."
"Make any friends?"
"…Yeah. Hermione and Ron. They helped me around St. James the entire day. They're pretty nice. Then there's a guy named Draco – he talked to me a few times. He's in all of my classes."
"How were the teachers?"
Harry shrugged again as he bit into a soft chocolate chip cookie. Mrs. Figg made the best chocolate chip cookies in the universe.
"They were nice."
Harry decided that Mr. Binns was, by far, the nicest.
"I'm glad you had a good first day, Harry."
"Yeah…me too."
&&&
Authors note: For lack of creativity, I just call the school St. James. If any of you readers watch or watched QAF you know that St. James is the private school that Justin attended. Anyway, I'm a review addict so it'd be nice if I had a buttload of reviews, good or bad. I'm always up for constructive criticism. Just don't be an ass about it, please.
Lyrics: The song lyrics are from "In the Cold" by Acceptance.