Despite Father's obvious distaste for Gilderoy Lockhart, Draco was interested in what Defense Against the Darks Arts classes would be like with his new teacher. He had only known what Defense Against the Dark Arts had been like with Quirrell, who in all honestly had been somewhat lacking as a teacher. Not because, according to rumors, he had been affiliated with the Dark Lord. No, he had been lacking just because he had been a terrible teacher. Draco had had the feeling that while he knew his stuff, the confidence was lacking, so he mostly just taught them out of textbooks and assigned them boring, dry assignments. Draco was looking forward to Lockhart's class, even though Father and Mother seemed disdainful of him - especially seeing as how he was a halfblood. Still, Draco was looking forward to it. Especially, he thought, because of all the exploits detailed in Lockhart's books. He must surely be a fantastic teacher.

"I think he's just going to be another lame one," Zabini drawled, kicking his feet up to put them on the seat across from him. The train chugged along steadily.

Pansy scrunched her nose and shoved his feet off the seat. They landed on the floor with a thunk. "If the record for Ravenclaw Defense teachers holds up I'm guessing you're right," she said.

"Well, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt," Draco said haughtily.

Pansy darted him a look. "Don't let your Father hear you say that. He's a half blood, remember?"

Draco remembered. "I'm not a Gryffindor, Parkinson. I have some sense in me."

"I know that," Pansy said. For some reason she was blushing a little.

Draco stared fixedly out the window. He thought he knew why she was blushing, and he didn't particularly care for it. His Father and Mother had talked to him briefly about courting when he was much older, and he knew simple infatuations that young children got were silly and fleeting, so he didn't care to involve himself in any of them. He knew that he had much too much dignity to fancy anyone, especially at this age.

He stayed silent for most of the train ride to Hogwarts. He was wondering what the school year would hold.

At first Draco just thought that he didn't run into Harry Potter on the train because, well, it was a fairly large train, and Draco was busy.

But once he was inside the great halls of Hogwarts, and inside the actual Great Hall seated at the Slytherin table… his eyes scanned the room and he didn't see a single sign of Potter. Had he stopped coming to Hogwarts after the events of the end of last year?

No. He couldn't have.

Draco both hoped and dreaded that that was the case.

"Crabbe, Goyle," he whispered as the sorting hat began to welcome the new first years. "Where do you suppose Potter is?"

They both just shrugged. Draco sighed a little. Sometimes he wished for friends with whom he could hold slightly more… intellectual conversations with. Crabbe and Goyle, though long time friends, were slightly lacking in that regard, and Pansy just agreed with whatever he said. Wonderful as that could be, it got tiring, and sometimes he just wanted a nice argument with someone.

His eyes scanned the room for Potter again.

Zabini leaned forward. "Why are you looking for that git?"

"I'm not," Draco snapped.

Zabini arched a single eyebrow. "You just asked Crabbe and Goyle where he was."

"Well, I'm curious," Draco said. Damn, I sound like a Gryffindor. He lifted his chin a little. "Potter makes a bad name for wizards, he is such a wreck. I like watching him make a mockery of Gryffindor house, is all."

"Weasley's not here either," Pansy said.

Zabini raised his other eyebrow. "Interested in Weasley, are you Parkinson?"

Pansy flushed red, but Draco knew it was from anger, not embarrassment. He was good at reading body language.

"Of course not," Pansy said haughtily, glaring at Zabini. "He and Potter are attached at the hip, that's why I noticed." Her eyes swept the Gryffindor table again. "Granger is here, though," she said. "Interesting."

Draco scoffed. He would never admit it, but he harbored quite a bit of resentment towards Granger at the moment. Granger was at the top of their class. Of all their classes.

A fact that Draco couldn't seem to live down.

He was second.

"Draco," Pansy said. Almost whined it. He glanced over at her.

"Yes?"

"You're staring at the Gryffindors," she said.

He hadn't realized how lost in his thoughts he'd become.

Malfoys don't show weakness.

He turned back to the table and threw himself into a debate about Quidditch with Zabini and Nott.

At the end of the feast, Professor Dumbledore stood up and spoke a short speech. Nothing interesting, and Draco tuned out, but when Dumbledore introduced Lockhart as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Draco tuned in again.

"Thank you, thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Lockhart said, rising to his feet and beaming a blinding white smile. "I am honored to be shaping the minds of the future, and to be honest, the minds of the future are lucky to have me." He chucked a little, and was joined half heartedly by the rest of the staff. They seemed to be irritated with him, especially Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. Interesting. Draco made a mental note of that. Anyone Professor Snape disliked… well, there had to be a good reason for it. Professor Snape had good judgement. After all, he disliked the annoyingly arrogant Potter. Well, he disliked all Gryffindors.

Draco could relate.

Lockhart went on for a little bit about how excited he was to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and about how he would be applying teaching skills he learned when he saved an entire village from a band of trolls, and then taught them all self defense skills. Teaching with Trolls, it was apparently called.

Looking around, Draco could see that the student body was fairly split down the middle. There were people who looked completely and utterly irritated and done with Lockhart - mostly guys, and a few girls who looked like they couldn't care less. And then there were the girls - and a few guys - who were watching Lockhart raptly.

Draco had a feeling Lockhart's brilliant smile and twinkling eyes had something to do with it.

When he finished his address to the students, Dumbledore gave an enigmatic smile and spread his arms wide.

"And now I shall send you off to bed. Hop pop young students!"

"Hop pop," Draco sneered, smirking at his friends. "Father says Dumbledore is losing his mind and he couldn't be more right."

His friends snickered their agreement and, with them following him, Draco strode off towards the Slytherin common room. He was a second year now. It was a new year at Hogwarts, and the air smelled of potential.