Sitting up brightly with his glasses polished and repaired sitting on his nose, Harry watched in awe as objects flew left and right, cushions fell into his lap, and socks smacked into the door to his compartment. He laughed brightly as the room filled up with a blinding white light, and one of the chocolate frog wrappers in front of him turned into a green piece of parchment. Magic was wonderful, he had decided. Every spell he had tried had worked, and he was rather amazed at what he could do with his wand. He only wished he had a bit of water with him, so that he could try and turn it to rum…
Carefully aiming for the window of the door, he raised another cushion into the air and sent it flying towards it. Unfortunately, though, at that very moment, someone had decided to grace him with a visit to his compartment, and it whacked him full in the face.
Whoever it was gasped, and nearly fell back, but for the door that slammed behind him.
"Oh – er…sorry!" Harry said, face flushed in embarrassment, "I was…practising magic…and, well…"
The boy removed the pillow from his face, giving Harry a full view of him. His eyes were a bright blue, and his robes were rather tattered, but what stood out the most was the blinding red colour of his hair.
"Don't worry about it, mate!" he said cheerfully, plopping down opposite Harry with a large smile, "So, who are you? I'm Ron Weasley!" he paused, then looked down, "Or did you already guess…"
Harry gave him a confused look, "No – er – should I have?"
Ron shook his head quickly, "No," he said, "Never mind. It's just, you see…well, what's your name, anyway?"
"Harry Potter. I'm pleased to-"
"Blimey! You're Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?!"
"Are there others?" Harry asked wearily.
"Do you…can I see the scar?"
Harry sighed, but pulled back his fringe nonetheless.
"Wow…"
When Harry had finally managed to pull the conversation away from him and onto something else, another boy decided to visit the compartment, too.
He opened the door, and leaned in slightly, white blond hair falling next to his eyes. Harry couldn't see the colour from where he was sitting.
"Do you mind if I join you two?" he asked, with a slightly empty expression.
When Ron said nothing, Harry gestured to the seat beside him and said, "Not at all!"
The boy sat down gracefully and looked Ron over with that same vacant expression and half-closed eyes.
"Weasley," he nodded to him, and Harry saw nothing wrong with the way he said it, but Ron immediately snapped.
"Yeah! And what of it?!" he yelled.
Harry jumped a little, wondering what the hell had gotten to him, and when he looked back at the blond boy, a disapproving sneer was set on his face.
"It was just a greeting!" he growled, and got up to leave, but Harry stopped him, mind spinning with confusion.
"No! Don't leave! What's – why are you two fighting?"
"Because he's a Malfoy!" Ron snapped unfairly.
The Malfoy snorted and left the compartment, but Harry stopped him once more just outside the door.
"Why can't we all be friends?" he blurted, looking at both of them in turn, wondering how he could improve the situation.
"I-"
"He's a Malfoy!" Ron yelled again, as though it explained everything.
When Malfoy turned away for the third time, Harry stuck his hand out on a whim and nearly screamed, "I'm Harry Potter! Nice to meet you!"
Though the boy did give him an odd look, he still took his hand.
"Draco Malfoy," he said, and bowed his head a little, "I'll see you around."
For a moment, Harry contemplated following him down the hall, but he decided against it, and clambered back into his seat. He stayed silent, watching Ron fume, and he tried to think up what to say to figure out what was wrong. He tried to find the right words to make Ron rethink what he said. They could all be friends, he knew. It would take time, but he knew that they would get along just fine.
They had to, for his sake.
HP
"Potter, Harry!"
Harry ignored the whispers and stares as he made his way up to the stool. Every step he took made the little rickety chair seem further away, his feet becoming heavier, heavier, heavier…until he was sure they had turned to lead. He sat down stiffly and looked at all the eyes that were watching him.
Gryffindor…Ron was going to go to Gryffindor with his brothers.
And Draco sat with the Slytherins.
He wondered if he'd end up with one of them, or if he would go off to one of the other Houses. Or what if they kicked him out? What if he wasn't powerful enough to stay?
A slight shiver ran through his body as the stern looking Professor McGonagall placed the shabby old hat on his head. He waited a moment, stiff as a board, until the hat began to talk.
"Hmmm…yes, you are a rather hard choice…intelligent, brave, loyal, but you have a real thirst to prove yourself. You could be cunning, too, and yes, oh, yes, you've got some power! I thinking you'd do well in…"
Harry suddenly remembered that dream he had had – the one where he had been sorted into Gryffindor, and he had been so, so happy. For a moment he had the strange, overpowering urge to go to Gryffindor, and the hat seemed to sense it, for it said,
"Gryffindor!" Harry froze, "Why would you want to go there? Slytherin is a good House – a very good house! You'd be happy there. You'd fit in! Are you sure you want to go to Gryffindor?"
But he couldn't choose. The dream, it had been so happy. He had been having so much fun…
And suddenly that memory was replaced with the one where had had been sitting with Hagrid in Diagon Alley, and he had decided in that moment that he was going to befriend everyone he met, no matter what they treated him like, no matter who they were.
But the Slytherins didn't like the Gryffindors, and the Gryffindors didn't like the Slytherins. Maybe he should be in Hufflepuff, he thought miserably.
"I don't care," he whispered to the hat, "Choose for me."
And the hat yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" which echoed through the silent Hall, following Harry to his table, where he sat beside Draco and waited until, finally, the clapping started.
Harry half expected to turn to his side and find Draco not looking at him, bored with the whole thing. He gave off that kind of impression, Harry found, as though nothing at all seemed to faze him. But when he looked around, there Draco was, staring at him with his, usual, half-eyed stare that didn't seem so vacant anymore.
He could feel Ron glaring right through him, straight at the blond boy.
HP
The next day, classes were, well, interesting, to say the least. Almost every subject he had was split with the Gryffindors, who sat on the other side of the classroom. Harry found himself sitting with Ron more often than not, because Draco didn't talk that much, and preferred to read while the teacher was talking, while Ron liked to write notes back and forth.
After classes, Harry tried to convince them both to go for a walk around the school, but Ron wouldn't go if Draco did, and Draco answered with a flat out, "No."
So Harry and Ron went alone, strolling around the lake for a while, then going inside to explore the corridors when the wind got too cold and the sky started to darken. They met up with a girl named Hermione at one point, who followed them around and interrogated them until finally, they went back to their own common rooms. It was almost curfew, anyway.
HP
The next morning brought more surprises than Harry had been expecting. He took his usual place beside Draco, and began filling up his plate when the blond boy suddenly spoke up.
"Someone broke into Gringotts, did you hear?" he played with his food as he spoke, not taking his eyes off his plate, "Vault seven thirteen."
Harry looked at him for a moment, before realization dawned on him.
"Hey!" he said, startling Draco into looking at him, "That's the vault Hagrid took the funny little package out of…that's odd…"
They ate in silence like they usually did, afterwards, but when Draco got up to leave he spoke once more.
"Oh, and, flying lessons are this Monday after classes, by the way."
He turned to leave, but Harry caught him by the wrist.
"Hey, wait for me, okay? We could go for a walk around the school, or something."
"Are you sure? I thought you'd be doing something with Weasley."
"Yes, well, he can come, if he wants. If not, that's his problem."
Draco sat down and waited.
HP
Harry had, at one point, come to the conclusion that Draco had grown up and stopped being a child before the age of eleven. He barely talked, he read more often than not, and he just wasn't…well, he never laughed, or did anything like that.
But when they both set out to explore the castle after breakfast, it was Draco who took Harry's hand and ran through the doors, Draco who chose what staircases to take, and Draco who couldn't seem to stop smiling, a giggle escaping his lips every once in a while.
"Hey! Slow down!" Harry laughed, running up a set of stairs in this crazy tower of staircases that moved everywhere. Draco was a few steps up, but stopped to wait when he heard him.
"Let's go over there." He pointed to a dark hallway, and so they went.
It was only when they were halfway down it did they realize where exactly they were. It was Draco who noticed it first.
"Oh, no." he said, halting in his tracks, "We're not supposed to be here."
Harry didn't know what he was talking about, but he allowed Draco to turn him back the way they came, nonetheless.
"Mrs. Norris!" Draco suddenly squeaked, and Harry noticed the cat for the first time, sitting there and watching them with a little cat-smirk on its face.
"I'm going to tell on you," it seemed to say.
They ran.
Where the hallway ended, though, there was only a locked door. Harry opened it with a spell, and they slipped in, quietly, never taking their eyes off the hallway.
They stood there and waited for about ten minutes, listening to Filch come and go. They didn't dare talk, afraid their voices might carry down the halls. A hot breath began to pant on Harry's neck, and he tried to ignore it as best as he could, but it was making him sticky and soon it was all he could think about.
"Draco," he whispered, "Could you stop breathing on my neck?"
He turned around to glare for added effect, but it wasn't Draco who had been doing it.
No, it was a large, three headed dog.
Harry grabbed yanked Draco out of the room with him, and they ran as fast as they could, not knowing where they were going, and not really caring. They stopped only when they ran into Ron, who stood there, red in the face, angry beyond belief.
"Oh my god, Ron, we just ran into a three headed dog!"
Ron seemed too angry to hear, though, and all of his attention was directed on Draco.
"What were you doing wandering the castles with Harry?"
A slight flush crept onto Draco's cheeks, but he remained calm, his eyes empty once more.
"We were just exploring."
Harry held his breath.
"And why wasn't I invited?"
"You were with him yesterday. What does it matter?"
Ron lashed out.
"What does it matter? WHAT DOES IT MATTER? HARRY, YOU CAN'T HANG OUT WITH MALFOY! HIS ENTIRE FAMILY IS MESSED UP! THEY'LL CHANGE YOU, HARRY! THEY'RE WITH YOU-KNOW-WHO!!!"
Harry turned to Draco, tears in his eyes, wanting to ask him if this was true, but he was already halfway down the hall.
Once more, he did not follow.
ITB
Was that too rushed? I think that was too rushed. But I tried my best, so…
Anyway, yeah, so…there. He met Draco, everything's good…or, not so good. There will be some Ron bashing, I imagine, if it's not in the first story, somewhere, there will be tons in his fourth year. If you want me to get there, though, I'll need reviews. Oh, yeah, and that reminds me! Thanks SO MUCH for the reviews!
But I want some more.
Okay, then…anyways, the first year's not going to be too long. I'm running out of inspiration for this year.