Draco's ride to Hogwarts was uneventful. It might have surprised someone else (particularly his mother), but he didn't actually mind not being a prefect. He'd known Theo for ages, and Theo would be good with the responsibility. Besides, Draco was going to be Quiddich Captain. Probably.
Pansy and Daphne sat in the same compartment as Draco, and eventually Vince and Greg found their way there as well. The boys spent the entire trip in quiet contemplation - Draco mostly stared out the window, at the vast expanse of land! It was curious how he never thought how big England was, until he was actually on the train.
Time seemed to drag out forever, and Draco just wanted to see what the Sorting Hat had to say.
Pansy and Daphne couldn't stop talking about makeup and dresses and boys. Only Draco seemed to realize that Pansy hated conversations like that. Her parents were strict, however, and she couldn't afford a slip, particularly in public.
So a true discussion of hemlines made its appearance, and Draco tried to stay as still as possible.
If there was anything worse than listening to such tripe, it was being used as a dummy.
Draco Malfoy heard Granger's voice outside his compartment. He rigidly kept his eyes fixed on the passing scenery, his ears straining to hear what was being said. That sounded like Cho Chang, which probably meant a spot of trouble for Granger. No matter - Granger would handle herself with style. Even if a thousand things were different, Draco Malfoy knew Granger was one witch that one probably shouldn't start scraps with.
Not that it stopped him. He was masochistic that way.
Chang was just dumb. Probably bought into some sort of tripe - maybe 'Potter broke up with me because he's in love with his best friend.'
Sure enough, Draco was treated to a shrieked, "We're JUST FRIENDS!"
He wanted to sigh. If there was anything that was more guaranteed to fuel speculation than roughshod trampelling over morons who believed in lousy gossip... well, Draco didn't know it.
Draco was a firm believer in the best sorts of gossip, and a firmer believer that if you didn't have something either factual OR creative to say, you really ought to be silent. It ought to be easy to tell the difference between 'a fun story' and 'a real story, slightly embroidered.'
Perhaps Cho lacked the interest to cultivate a working brain. Ravenclaws did so like to memorize their way out of trouble.
[a/n: Goyle and Crabbe don't get adopted siblings. If you must know, they're considered too poor to be good hosts. Leave a review?]