Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter or the song. Characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the song is by T.a.t.U.
"Pygmalion"
A Drarry Fanfiction by Destiny Commence
OoOoO Friend or Foe OoOoO
We used to love one another
Give to each other
Lie undercover so,
Are you friend or foe
Love one another
Live for each other
So are you friend or foe
'Cause I used to know
The first week of school had always been the most hectic. He kept that little note in his mind. And it was going to get a whole hell more hectic.
He was now Head Boy.
Two years ago, he would have killed anyone just to make sure the spot went to him. But at the moment he was having second thoughts about accepting the role.
The first years and the transferees were just driving him mad.
"Please form two orderly lines, first years! And the transferees to my right, please? As for everyone else, kindly make your way to the Great Hall and sit down at your respective house tables!" He turned to his right and saw a head of bushy hair standing out from a sea of faces, both old and new. He sighed and buried his face in his hands.
"Malfoy! You know, I could use some help here!" Hermione Granger, Head Girl, walked up to him, hands on her waist. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Draco rubbed the back of his head and groaned. "By the looks of it, Granger, you have it all under control. And as far as you know, I could only control the Slytherins. It doesn't matter that I'm the Head Boy or not. You know how my reputation is, lately…" His voice dropped.
Hermione rolled her eyes and she heaved a sigh, before she spun around to take care of business.
Meanwhile, Draco just stared at the throngs of students that currently were filing into the Great Hall. He did a double take the moment he saw a mop of messy black hair, but quickly lost him in the dozens of Gryffindors in the Hall.
"Is that him?"
"The last Malfoy? Yep, that's him."
"So it is true? He's an orphan now?"
Draco groaned and tried his best to block out the whispers. Bloody hell…the rumors have been tormenting him for what seemed like forever. When are people going to accept that he is no longer a bloody Malfoy? Sure, he still bears the bloody last name, but Merlin forbid, he was no longer the son of Lucius Malfoy. He was just Draco.
"So that's him? The Malfoy git?" he heard a male voice say.
That. Was. It.
"Who do you think you're calling a git!" He spun around sharply, to meet the speaker: He was met by a pair of surprised dark brown eyes. Those same eyes belonged to a young boy, no older than fifteen, he presumed. His eyes traveled down the black cloak.
There was no house patch.
"A transferee?" he asked, more to himself than to the other boy.
"Well, yeah." He held out a hand to Malfoy. "The name's Brent. Pleased to meet you. And sorry if I kinda hurt your feelings. It was a spur of the moment, really. Didn't mean what I said."
"You should've been more careful, Brent." That was the only time Draco realized that there were others behind Brent. Three girls and another boy. All missing the identifiable house patches on their black cloaks.
Brent turned around to look at one of her female companions. "I already said I'm sorry, Nazz."
One of the girls, the one who looked the eldest, stepped forward and held out a hand. "The name's Nazareth Versailles. They call me Nazz. These--" she pointed to the others, "--are my friends. Brent, Kristian, Irish and Paola. Sorry 'bout what Brent said. His mouth is not really connected with his brain, if you know what I mean."
"I'm standing right here!"
Nazareth just gave him an irritated wave of the hand and went back to talking to Draco. "You're the Head Boy, I've heard. And you were quite someone in the Final Battle yourself."
Draco tilted his head to the side. "How did you…know?"
She flashed a smile. "I'm an aspiring journalist. I'm supposed to know these things. And besides," her voice dropped low, "I'm really supposed to know these things."
Draco was a bit curious about what she meant by her last line, but decided not to interrogate further about it. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to, such as the piling first years that were starting to drive Granger crazy.
"Hey," he started, not bothering to shake her hand, "it's nice to make acquaintances like you, but you have to excuse me. Being Head Boy is a lot of work…Anyways, transferees are sorted along with the first years, so I suggest you all get in line already."
He saw Kristian and Brent throw him icy glares at the corner of his eye, and Nazareth mouth something to all of her friends. With a sigh, he went back to work, finally deciding to help Granger with the first years.
He did not know how long it took them, but he and Granger managed to finally make the other students file into the Great Hall and arranged the first years and transferees into decent lines. He gratefully leaned against the wall, pushing his bangs out of his very attractive face. Several of the first year girls sighed as he did so, earning annoyed looks from Granger.
She clapped her hands to get their attention. "Alright, everybody! Listen up! In a few moments, these doors—"she beckoned to the great oak doors of the Great Hall, "—will be opening. You are to walk in line toward the Headmistress and then wait for your turn to be sorted. Now, during the ceremony, I would really appreciate it if none of your make any noise. And since we have many transferees in the higher years, I trust that you will exhibit proper decorum during the ceremony." She stopped abruptly when she saw a group of first years mumbling to each other. "What are you talking about there, first years?"
The first years snapped to her and played with their fingers nervously. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot sternly. "Well? I'm waiting."
A hand shot up in the air. Granger turned to the owner, and so did Draco, who could not help but be curious at who would be brave enough to challenge the fuming Head Girl. He found himself a bit surprised when he saw the familiar face of the girl named Nazareth. She did not seem to be intimidated at all by Hermione's scowling, and looked rather bored.
"Yes? Miss…"
"Nazareth."
"You want to ask something, Miss Nazareth?"
"Harry Potter…He will be a host too, won't he?"
Her question sparked more murmuring. Granger appeared to be a little surprised by the question. Draco could not blame her. He himself was surprised. Why? There was barely a soul alive who bothered about the Boy-Who-Lived. In fact, there was almost no one who bothered to call him by the name he had.
"Well, Miss Head Girl?"
"O-oh!" Granger rubbed the back of her head. "Uh…well, yes. He will be one of the Masters of the Ceremony. Why do you ask?"
Nazareth shrugged and rolled her eyes. "No reason, really. I just wanted to ask…" Draco noticed her voice trailed off again. He was starting to get curious about this girl…
"Oh, well then. Please stay put while we all wait for the start of the sorting ceremony." She then left the first years and walked over to Draco, tugging at his sleeve. "Watch over them while I talk with Headmistress McGonagall, clear?"
Draco threw her a "yeah, whatever" look and she turned on her heel to walk away. The teens in line held their breath as the Malfoy heir took his place before all of them. He looked coldly at them, scanning the sea of faces before him and setting his eyes on Nazareth, who still seemed unmoved by his glare.
He marched toward her, passing by a group of trembling first years. "Chatting with your friends isn't exactly prohibited, but we wouldn't mind if you lessened talking to your friends a bit," he spoke, cutting Nazareth and Irish's conversation.
Nazareth turned to him with an innocent look on her face, as if she was oblivious that Draco's attention has been on her that whole time. "Ah? You were saying?"
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, his brow twitching. "Sociability is one of the marvels of man, but try not to overdo it."
Nazareth looked at him for a few moments before she broke into fits of laughter, earning confused looks from everyone around her.
"What's so funny, transferee?"
"You sound so much like my friend…back in my old school." She stopped laughing and leaned closer to whisper, "He said wisdom is one of the marvels of man, but I shouldn't overdo it." She pulled back and flashed a bright smile.
Draco did not know what happened, but he found unusual images filling his brain after he heard her proclamation. Like mental snapshots of a movie. And they disappeared just as fast as they came. He soon found himself staring into space, as if he had just gotten out of a deep trance.
"Are you okay, Mister Head Boy?" Paola (if he remembered correctly) asked.
"Yeah, w-whatever." He held his forehead and went back to the front of the line, just in time as the big doors opened.
This was really going to be…
"…A different year."
"You were saying, Mister Potter?"
Harry looked up and met McGonagall's concerned stare. He politely shook his head and smiled. "It's nothing, Headmistress. I was just thinking about how this year would be different. The battle is finally over…we have a new headmistress…"
"I would really appreciate it if you refrain from adding more to my uneasiness, Mister Potter. I am nervous enough as it is." The new headmistress wrung her wrists.
Harry smiled. McGonagall made the perfect replacement for Dumbledore, even if the loss did make him quite sad. But the battle was finally over. Dumbledore's sacrifice was not wasted. Hogwarts remained standing, even though there were a few casualties.
He watched as the great doors opened and the new batch of Hogwarts students marched in, led by a very proud Hermione and Malfoy. He marveled at the number of transferees. He had heard that many wizarding schools were damaged during the war, but he did not really anticipate this many students.
The students stopped before the "stage" and the Head Boy and Girl took their places at their respective house tables. McGonagall cleared her throat and approached the podium. Harry could visibly see the uneasiness in her, though she did well in hiding it from everybody else.
He was sitting at the teachers' table, between Flitwick and Hagrid, who kept slapping him on the back and beaming proudly at him like he had just won the lottery. Profe—no, Headmistress McGonagall had insisted that he be a master of the ceremony, given his reputation. He would have gladly declined, if only the whole Gryffindor common room had not insisted. Who was he to go against his whole house? Besides, he loved his place now. He can glance at the Slytherin table without being too conspicuous.
At that moment, he decided to look at where Malfoy was sitting.
Malfoy…
Harry could still not believe that the Ice Prince had decided to side with the Light instead of with his father. Of course, it was more of a shock that he insisted on being put under Dumbledore's Army, which was fully under Harry's command. Never in a thousand years did Harry think that Draco would willingly put himself under Harry's orders. Harry had almost jumped for joy at his shot at vengeance, but he had thought twice when Draco exhibited a different attitude towards him.
Draco never scowled nor taunted him back then. Come to think of it, he never did even glare once at him. In fact, Remus assigned him as Harry's personal bodyguard. And he went by his job. He never let any danger be near Harry. He even took the blow his father had executed fro the Boy-Who-Lived…
What am I thinking!
Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, eyes wide and cheeks pink. I shouldn't be thinking like this! Malfoy and I are in a truce because of the final battle…but that doesn't mean I have to like him more than my friends! You two are still rivals, Potter, keep that in mind.
"And to give us his opening remarks…will be Hogwarts very own Harry Potter!"
"…and of course, to quote our great late Headmaster Dumbledore, I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The Great Hall erupted in loud applause as the Boy-Who-Lived finished his welcome speech. Hagrid rushed to him when he turned around to return to his seat, and to a certain blonde Head Boy, it was no mystery why.
Harry had wounded himself gravely in the last battle. He had been using crutches for the past four months, having almost lost both of his legs. To Draco, it made him look even more vulnerable and weak.
Not that he was complaining.
He watched as the half-giant assisted Harry back to his seat, taking the crutches and putting them against the wall right behind Harry.
Wait…
It's Potter. Not Harry.
Draco sighed and buried his face in his hands. Guarding over the Boy-Who-Lived for several months did not actually do well to his own self. He kept losing himself in thoughts of how frail Ha—Potter was. He wondered how a boy like the raven-haired Gryffindor could survive the wrath of Voldemort.
"Draco? What's on your mind? They're already starting the sorting!"
Draco snapped out of his thoughts thanks to Pansy's nagging. (She was no longer his girlfriend, but they kept up the act for the rest of the Slytherin house.) True enough, when he turned to the stage, Hagrid had already pulled out the stool and the ever-famous Sorting Hat. McGonagall pulled out a long roll of parchment and started reading names. One by one, he watched the first years climb the stage and get sorted into their new houses. He watched also as the transferees got sorted. Kristian, Brent, Paola and Irish were all sorted into Gryffindor, where they made instant friends with the Weasels—Weasleys. Granger even sparked conversations with them, and they did not seem to mind that it was about books and grading systems. He managed to learn from his partial listening that Irish and Paola are both in their fourth year, Kristian is in his fifth year, and Brent was in his seventh year.
"Versailles, Nazareth Judea!"
It was the last name that day. After all, Nazareth was the only person left to be sorted. He watched, a little bored, as she climbed up and sat on the stool. She gingerly put the hat on her head, and at that moment, Draco felt like he suddenly went deaf. The noise of the Great Hall was suddenly drowned out, and he could hear the Sorting Hat's whispers, from several meters away!
"Hmm…You seem to have an aura similar to Harry Potter…The same brave soul…the kind heart…But there's something different too…You have the potential to be in any house…any house at all…Hardworking like a Hufflepuff…Intelligent as a Ravenclaw…Courageous as a Gryffindor…And cunning…Ah, yes, cunning as a Slytherin…Now which house to put you in…Perhaps in Gryffindor?" he heard the hat whisper to Nazareth's ears.
The girl threw a glance at Draco, and for a moment, their eyes locked on each other. Again, he felt something stir from the back of his mind. A memory? He was not sure. More like a fantasy. Then he heard the familiar hiss of Parseltongue.
And this time, he could understand it.
"Slytherin. Put me in Slytherin."
Draco's jaw dropped. He had heard Parseltongue before, but he never really understood it. But now, he understood it like perfect English.
He had no more time to ponder on it when the hat yelled…
"Slytherin!"
His eyes traveled over to the Gryffindor table, where he saw Brent debating angrily with the other three of their group, gesturing angrily at Nazareth as she made her way to the Slytherin table. She took her seat in between Crabbe and Draco. She flashed a smile at the blonde prince and tossed her dark hair back.
"Is she flirting with you?" Pansy asked. It did not really bear a tone of jealousy. It was a simple question.
Draco just shrugged. "Probably not. That guy at the Gryffindor table seems to be with her." He managed to get it out nonchalantly. Besides, even if she was flirting with him, she would have to stop, because Draco's interest in the other sex had gradually subsided, given his current state and reputation.
A few minutes later, McGonagall had the food served to the students. Of course, Draco and Granger had to delay their feast to ensure that everything is in order. Both looked more hassled than ever, but they did not seem to mind. Granger, at least. As for Draco…well, it is an entirely different matter. He was thankful that he had established a sort of leadership status in Slytherin, and so his house did not even dare going against his orders. But Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and most of all, Gryffindor all seemed to be hell-bent on making his life miserable. But he had no choice.
He was Head Boy.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was able to sit down at his table and start eating. But much to his dismay, he had lost all interest in stuffing himself. He just settled for a sandwich and a goblet of juice. After that he just sat back, unwillingly listening to Pansy's rants about the Gryffindors.
Speaking of Gryffindor…
His eyes traveled over to the teachers' table, and they fixed themselves on the dark-haired Gryffindor that was sitting there, crutches at his side. He seemed to have lost his appetite as well. He was just sitting there, sipping whatever he had in his goblet. He smiled slightly as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear so femininely.
Draco found himself drawn to watching the Golden Boy. For the past months, Harry had declined from cutting his hair and had settled to have it long. Reaching halfway down his back, to be exact. And his weak body just heightened his femininity.
His frailty.
The frailty Draco had sworn to protect.
What the hell…?
He had almost choked on his juice when he realized how long he had been staring at Harr—Potter. Yeah, Potter.
Damn this year…
OoOoO End OoOoO
(A/N Duty: Jezareth)
A/N: I'm first up on duty? Oh well…What the hell…anyways, this chapter took up quite some time. Mainly, because Alfons, Kawahi and Schatzi have been freaking missing for the past weeks! Where. Are. You. Three. You're killing us here! We know about the thesis and all, but for pete's sake, give us a holler or anything…Anyways…see that little button down there? You can push it and it will send you to a wonderful little window where you can type your reviews and get a cyber plushie in return! Courtesy of everyone!