Erasing Time's Tracks
Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

- - -

Draco Malfoy had never been this nervous in the old timeline. The last time around, he had stoically listened as his father filled him with pronouncements about who to associate with and who to avoid. He had met up with Crabbe and Goyle and then managed to carry himself with what he had thought was grace and aplomb, but had really been a mixture of sneering and aloofness. He had reacted far too nastily to Weasley as well, so cementing his place on Potter's shit-list and embarrassing himself to boot, after the boy had basically told him to pound sand.

This time around, however, he knew roughly where people would be and where he would have to be to make sure he could get Weasley out of the way. But the timing would have to be crucial. Anything could throw off his whole game plan. The thoughts about Weasley brought the blond around to thoughts about Hermione Granger.

He still felt resentment towards her, but he realised now that most of it had been due to the completely unnecessary and foolish blood prejudice that had been hammered into him from birth. He had suffered cold lectures from his father about how a Muggle-raised half-blood (Potter) could beat him at Quidditch and how a Mudblood of no worth (Granger) could beat him in class. If his father had had an ounce of sense he would have realised that humiliating his only child over his perceived laziness in not asserting his allegedly innate pureblood superiority was counterproductive.

Draco reminded himself not to sneer at her as well, and not to start calling her a Mudblood. The eleven-year-old part of him could not completely understand why the older part was abandoning some of his father's most cherished ideologies. He knew that it was this part which, since his mannerisms were still somewhat 'hybridised', would feel the impulse to talk down to Potter (which he had managed to restrain well when discussing Hagrid), and ignore Granger.

Unfortunately, Granger was likely to go to Gryffindor again, and his father would be furious if he found out Draco was associating with… Gryffindors. Never mind that Draco realised that he had done the most Gryffindorishly foolhardy thing in his life by trying to send his soul back in time using illegal potions and a spell from some old book which could have made flowers come out of his ears for all he knew its validity.

And could he safely be friends with Potter?

His father might accept it as politically astute prior to the Dark Lord's return, but once it was clear that He was coming back, his father would probably demand that he start distancing himself from, or even spying on the messy-haired potential Wizarding Saviour.

All of this and more ran through his mind again and again as he showered, slicked his hair, watched the house-elves go half-barmy packing his trunk (making sure it was the top-flight three-compartment trunk with magically expandable interiors) and finally met his father in the parlour, who was saying, "Draco, I have asked Minister Fudge to provide a top-priority Auror escort and a Ministry conveyance. We will not be Apparating to Platform nine and three-quarters. Perhaps in future, we shall, but for your first year it is important that you get the measure of Slytherin House; sometimes subtlety is the best way to achieve this, which Apparition does not always provide. Now, who have I suggested that you associate with?"

Draco automatically replied, "Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson."

"Good. While we have not formally betrothed you, Draco, the Parkinsons are a good family match for the Malfoys. Do not offend her. The Crabbes and Goyles have been retainers to the Malfoys in times long distant, and the old relationships remain. Their sons will assist you in your endeavours, so do not… upset them."

That last had been said in such a way that Draco knew Lucius didn't really have that high an opinion of Crabbe and Goyle. Sardonically, Draco thought, well, all that really means is – don't take away their food.

He simply nodded deferentially and tried to stand as tall as he could in the fine Hogwarts robes he'd gotten, complete with a silk shirt and well-tailored, well-starched trousers. A house-elf popped in front of Lucius and said, "Master, Blinky is seeing a ve… hi… something coming close to the gates from the Ministry."

"Very well. Open the door, elf."

With alacrity, the ponderous front doors were opened, and Lucius, Draco and Narcissa made their way along the stone path to the front gates, upon which his father pointed his wand and muttered a complicated incantation (which Draco had learned in sixth year was the spell to open the gates after supplying the right password to the wards). The gates opened smoothly, and the trio regally entered the interior of the expensive, magically-expanded limousine. Two Aurors sat in front along with the driver, and this time he realised a strong silencing charm was part of the luxurious rear, offering better privacy than whatever Muggles used in their version of this vehicle.

The drive took about two hours, during which Draco mentally ignored most of the conversation. It boiled down to "Malfoys lead; they do not follow."

The young blond wondered when his father had taken leave of his senses regarding that titbit of Malfoy lore, since he had certainly seen his proud, stern father bowing and scraping like a house-elf before the Dark Lord. It had to have been midway through fifth year, when he had been dragged along to that Death Eater meeting.

He pushed that unwanted thought away. He knew he loved his father and mother, regardless of what they had done outside of Malfoy Manor. At the same time, he knew his father in particular had made some stunningly bad choices, which were in part due to wilful blindness. For Draco, it had been a shattering experience to realise his parents were imperfect and human; the point was driven home when fifth year had ended with his untouchable father being chucked into Azkaban like a common criminal. Snape had given him a strong dressing-down in private after a summer Potions tutoring session, asking him what he had been thinking, attempting to provoke Potter at a time when Potter's word to Dumbledore's ear could have gotten Draco kicked out of school with his wand snapped.

The sudden realisation that Malfoys were not untouchable and that people didn't just resent Malfoy riches, that they resented the very attitude that leaked off the Malfoys (Zabini, for example, was a wealthy pureblood and wasn't resented to the same degree) had given Draco pause. This, followed by several events in his disastrous sixth year had led to a serious re-evaluation of just what he'd been ignoring all those years.

- - -

The walk through King's Cross was a brusque formality. Lucius' dislike of the Muggles surrounding them was barely restrained. Draco wondered if Lucius would have tripped the old lady who had been blocking their way if he could have gotten away with it. In less time than expected, however, the three Malfoys strode as one through the charmed brick wall, and an unfamiliar emotion of returning home rushed through Draco as he took in the brilliantly gleaming steam engine and carriages, along with the milieu of people crowding around, talking, wishing each other good luck and greeting each other.

Draco looked around, and the second emotion he had was one of surprise and shock, as he realised how young everybody looked. His friends were all so… well, small! He had gotten used to looking up to his parents fairly quickly, but this experience was quite jarring. He had to close his eyes for a moment and shake his head to clear the confusion just as his father pointed his wife and child towards Pansy Parkinson.

Swiftly, Lucius organised Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle together with his only child. Draco removed his shrunken trunk from his pocket, and tapped it with his wand to get it to magically expand. At that point, he gestured at Crabbe and Goyle, who each grabbed a handle and followed, with Pansy in tow, loading the trunk onto one of the carriages.

He remembered that Potter had gotten on a carriage near the end, and so he pointed at the one right next to it and said, "We'll look in there for an empty compartment."

Since Pansy had already taken her leave of her parents, she stayed behind to indicate the chosen compartment was taken, while Draco, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him as they had done for so many years, returned to his parents.

Lucius stood, every inch of him radiating expectation. He extended his hand, which his son solemnly shook.

"My son," he said, "do not disappoint me. You will spend the next seven years here, and make friends and acquaintances which will carry you on past your time here. Do not antagonise the Headmaster, and remember that you are destined to be a Slytherin. Severus knows to keep an eye out for you, and will apprise me of any troubles you may have."

Draco realised that meant Lucius' spy network had just subtly been extended to Hogwarts. He felt trapped and bound; all of a sudden, he despaired of being able to break free and prove to his father that he could stand on his own, without constantly needing prodding and control.

Narcissa briefly hugged Draco and said, "Do well in school, my young dragon. I shall expect your letter home after the Sorting."

Their sole offspring had smiled slightly and said, "Mother, Father, I will do as you say. May I take my leave?"

His parents nodded gracefully, and they swiftly Apparated out, leaving the blond alone with his lackeys. Before, he'd spent some time meeting other pure-blooded children who mostly went into Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but this time he needed to ditch Crabbe and Goyle and get hold of Zabini.

"Let's get back on the train, boys," he said. "I need to leave you with Parkinson for a few moments, all right? Here's some money for the food cart."

He shoved ten Galleons each into their hands, and Crabbe and Goyle grinned at each other at the thought of all the sweets they could get. On the train, he said to Pansy, "I've got to go talk to Zabini for a moment. Crabbe and Goyle will stay here in case anyone else comes by, all right?"

The pug-faced girl nodded, as she knew the two hulking first-years could keep out any riff-raff trying to take over the compartment. Draco, breathing a sigh of relief at how easy it had been to ditch his hangers-on, stuck his head out the window of the train facing the platform, and checked the crowd quickly for three people: Blaise, Weasley, and Potter. He spotted the red-haired brood quickly, and noted that the two prankster twins were helping a black-haired boy with his trunk. Two down. That'll be Potter. Weasley's still talking with his mother.

He then located Blaise's mother, standing next to her son who was just about to get on the carriage in front of the one Draco was in. He quickly stepped up (Malfoys do not dash) to Blaise, and politely said hello to him and to his mother, who, on seeing Draco, engaged in some banal small talk while eyeballing the rather wealthy and decent-looking Nott senior. Deducing that she wouldn't mind if he dragged Zabini away from her, he said, "Mrs. Zabini, could I talk to Blaise privately for a bit?"

Blaise and Draco renewed their acquaintance, and the young black boy pointed out a taciturn Theodore Nott, along with some other boys Draco knew went to Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Soon, the two boys were in animated chat over the likelihood that the Boy Who Lived would show up on the Hogwarts Express. The black boy was sceptical, citing the likelihood that the Headmaster would, for reasons of security, have Potter transported straight to Hogwarts separately, whereas Draco had an unfair advantage and knew where Potter would be. Nonetheless, for the sake of appearances, Draco airily said that his father had suggested a personal connection with Potter could be important and that the Hogwarts Express was just so traditional that he was sure Potter would be on the train.

Unfortunately, at that moment the train whistle blew, and Draco swore to himself as he realised his timing had been off. He should have finished his chat with Zabini earlier and gotten on the train to find Harry. Damn it!

The boys bet two Galleons either way as the whistle quit, and then swiftly boarded the Express. Draco made his way to the compartment where his future fellow Slytherins were staying, and nervously attempted desultory conversation with Pansy while trying to get Crabbe and Goyle distracted with the thought of food. Finally, he had to remind them of the money he'd given them for the food cart, and that did the job. Pansy shook her head, sneering at Draco's clumsy manipulation of his minions. She said, "My God, Draco, don't you have any bloody finesse?"

Sneering back, he retorted, "Who needs it when it comes to that?"

Crabbe and Goyle just looked perplexed, and went back to discussing Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. It transpired that Goyle had once had an earwax-flavoured one, and he wanted to make sure he didn't get the same one next time.

Theodore Nott came by just as the train started moving, and Draco distractedly attempted to chat with the boy, remembering what had happened in the old timeline. After a few minutes of Draco and Theodore acquainting themselves and casually discussing Draco's mother's Yule party, Draco finally managed to make his escape, saying, "I've got to go see Flint. He's on the Quidditch team."

A good-natured laugh swept the compartment as Pansy and Theodore jokingly rated his chances of getting on the team in first year, and Crabbe and Goyle just grinned, nodding approvingly.

As bad luck had it, Flint was just down the corridor, and as soon as he heard that Draco wanted to be on the Quidditch team in second year, insisted on finding out if Lucius Malfoy would bankroll certain team expenses in exchange for a guaranteed slot for Draco in second year, monopolising his rather valuable time.

Appalled, the blond thought, Merlin, did people look at me the first time around and just see a bag of Galleons instead of a human being? I thought my fellow Slytherins weren't that grasping and greedy!

Draco, going through the motions of hedging and negotiating, said, "Well, Flint, it sounds as though we could have a mutually beneficial understanding, but I must write to my father first."

Flint nodded and said, "All right. Get back to me after the Sorting and I'll get you introduced to the rest of the Quidditch team. Time enough to ease out the old Seeker, right?"

Draco finished up with Flint and made a bee-line for Potter's compartment, only to have his plans dashed.

For Ronald Weasley was already in Potter's compartment.

Shit. Shit! SHIT SHIT SHIT!

Willing his temper to come under control, he breathed harshly, remembering his Occlumency exercises. They helped settle the mind. He made a note to himself to review Occlumency and strengthen his shields, which he hadn't really had to use much since he'd left the Dark Lord's mansion, as his father was not a Legilimens and his mother doted on him too much to read his mind even if she was a Legilimens.

Draco knocked on the compartment door, and was relieved to see Harry's smile as he opened the door for Draco. He said, "Come in, Draco! Here, I'd like you to meet Ronald Weasley. He came in here 'cause all the other compartments were full."

The young aristocrat blurted, "You're making friends with a Weasley?"

Harry fixed him with those expressive green eyes, and said, "And what's your problem with Ron, Draco?"

Embarrassed, Draco back-pedalled, or tried to, as he said, "Er, well… I was just surprised, that's all."

Harry, unconvinced, said, "Uh-huh."

Draco was ready to give up and just let things go when Weasley had to open his gob and say, "Harry, you're not seriously friends with Malfoy, are you?"

At that point, Harry, innocent of the Malfoy-Weasley feud, said, "I don't understand why you two don't like each other."

The redhead and the blond looked at each other, both ready to open their mouths and say something, when it suddenly occurred to Draco he didn't really need to be rude to Weasley. That was his father talking, and he wasn't his father. So he closed his mouth again, waiting for the freckled boy to bluster ahead.

Ron said, "But Harry, Malfoy's dad—"

Draco sat next to Harry and icily said, "Pardon me, Weasley, but in case you are blind, my father isn't here. So kindly stick to talking about me if you must insult me."

Harry broke in, his face red, saying, "I don't want to hear it. Shut it, both of you, or just get out of here."

Draco and Ron sat in an embarrassed silence as the bespectacled boy fumed, looking out the window. Finally, he said, "Look. I haven't had a lot of friends. Draco here has written to me several times over the summer, making me feel welcome in the wizarding world. Ron, you're a nice bloke. We were having a great chat before Draco came in. Now I don't know why you two don't like each other, but I don't want to be forced to choose between you two. So please, don't make me."

Draco, realising he would need to be civil to a Weasley for once, stuck out his hand and mumbled, "Sorry, Weasley. I'll try to be nice to you, for Harry's sake."

Ron mumbled back, "All right, Malfoy."

The two shook hands for the briefest of moments, and then retreated back to their seats. Awkwardly, the two boys looked everywhere but at each other, and both jumped, startled, when Harry said, "By the way, Draco, your letters have really helped, especially about Potions. I must have re-read that Potions text so many times I'm dreaming about it now!"

Nervous chuckles went around the compartment, and then Harry said, "So how was your summer, Draco?"

Flushing, the blond replied, "Oh, er, it's been all right. After I got my school supplies I read them over, that sort of thing. Flew around the Manor a few times, too."

He wondered if that last had been a mistake when he saw Weasley's ears get a bit red. Luckily, he seemed to be able to remain civil as he said, "I've got a broom, too. Nothing fancy though; it's an old Cleansweep. Er, Malfoy, you follow Quidditch? The Cannons should win this year, yeah?"

"Sorry, Weasley, it's Puddlemere United for me. They've put together a decent team, and their Keeper can stop even the fastest Quaffle throws."

"You're right, but the Cannons just got that new Chaser. They've got a chance, I just know it!"

Draco had to restrain himself from snickering as he remembered the hideous orange colours of the Cannons posters Weasley occasionally praised at the Gryffindor table, and wished he could see the look on the red-haired boy's face if he casually mentioned the Cannons still wouldn't win blasted-all anything in five years.

He replied, "Well, what about the Harpies?"

The conversation after that stayed in the easy channel of professional Quidditch, and Draco felt maybe the danger had passed and he wasn't going to mess it all up for himself.

As Potter was about to open his mouth to ask something after Weasley had mentioned the Wronski Feint, a sharp rapping on the door startled the boys. The bushy hair Draco spotted galvanised him into action. Shoving the door open, he said, "Yes?"

The girl bossily said, "Have you seen a toad? I've got this boy, Neville here, who says he lost his toad."

The blond pondered for a few seconds how best to get rid of Longbottom, then turned to the boy and said, "Longbottom, is it? Listen – unless he's jumped off the Express I expect you'll find him once we debark from the train in Hogsmeade. Or, you can get a Prefect to do the Summoning Charm for your toad. Meanwhile, I strongly suggest you go back to your compartment and read your Potions text."

At Granger's puzzled expression, Draco turned back to her and said, "I'll explain in a moment."

Longbottom looked nervously at the sight of Draco, but seemed to be reassured by the lack of malice. He was just being a good Slytherin – head off trouble before trouble gets to you. If Longbottom mastered even a bit more Potions theory before going to class he might not make so many mistakes. The boy nodded, and strode down the carriage walkway.

Draco got his oar in first, saying, "I don't know your name, er…"

"Hermione Granger. And you are?"

The fair boy took the opening with all due swiftness, and gestured to the bushy-haired girl to come into the compartment. He noted that the Granger reputation for preparation well in advance was evident even at the age of eleven, as she was already in her Hogwarts robes – impressive as most Muggleborns had to be told by the Prefects to change into appropriate attire. He closed and locked the compartment door after her, muttering an additional silencing and locking charm. He briefly noted the old rat Weasley had for a pet. Why it looked familiar, he couldn't quite work out. Probably just that dejy-view thing Muggleborns sometimes mentioned.

As he sat next to Potter again, he said, "I'm Draco Malfoy."

Ron said, "Ronald Weasley."

Harry finished, saying, "I'm Harry Potter."

Her brown eyes went wide open, but Draco hurriedly interposed, saying, "I'm sure you've probably read about Harry, but we should get to know each other properly, not just assume about people based on some book."

The girl seemed to ponder that for a second, and said, very fast, "Have any of you tried magic? I was ever so surprised when I got my Hogwarts letter as neither of my parents or grandparents are at all magical. I got all the books and read them all and even tried some of the spells and they worked."

Goggling, the freckled boy said, "You read all the books already?"

The paler boy firmly said, "They're important. Really important. Listen, you all need to stay on the right side of the professors. That's why I told Longbottom to read his Potions book again. Weasley, what I'm about to say, you cannot repeat to anyone else. I don't much care if you think I'm a good bloke or a nasty one, but as I warned Potter here, my father in particular is status-conscious and could make trouble for both of us if you start telling stories. All right?"

Weasley's uncertain nod was all Draco needed. Taking a deep breath, he then continued. "Potter, you are Muggle-raised. Granger, you are Muggleborn. Weasley and I are called pure-bloods. That means both our parents can trace their ancestry back through fully-magical ancestors for hundreds and hundreds of years.

"You, Harry, are what we call a half-blood. The Potters were an old pureblood family as well, but your father married a Muggleborn, thus half-blood."

He sighed, and tried to avoid the instinct to talk down to the upstart magicians.

"You two have probably come here, thinking that this new world of opportunity will offer you nothing but bliss and wonder. Unfortunately, I am here to tell you that it doesn't work that way. You see, the old purebloods tend to intermarry amongst each other, and so a lot of us know each other somewhat – Longbottom's also a pureblood; that's how I knew his last name. Weasley here is a son of the Weasleys and Prewetts. I am a son of the Blacks and Malfoys. The Blacks are another extremely old and parochial pureblood family, whose wealth is matched only by my father's. So as you can work out—"

Granger spoke up, saying, "Of course! The wealth builds up over time and money buys power, and with power comes—"

The blond broke in, continuing. "Precisely. We purebloods effectively control the government, the Ministry of Magic. My father is on a first-name basis with that bloody clot Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge."

Ron said, "Well, you Malfoys are a bit rude to anyone else, my father says. My dad isn't exactly swimming in money, though. Some of the old wizarding families don't have a lot of money."

Draco chose to ignore that, and waited for other comments.

The girl broke in, saying, "Pardon me, but you shouldn't be so disrespectful to authority, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger, Fudge is a spineless git. Any man who is so easily bribed is not worth being treated as an equal."

Ron just grunted, saying, "Well, he hasn't given my dad a bloody raise in a few years and the Ministry keep making him work more."

The bushy-haired witch started to say something, and then chewed her lip, perplexed and frustrated. Draco guessed it was the first time Granger had had to come up against someone who really did know more than she did, and it wasn't sitting well with her.

Continuing, he said, "Anyway, as a result of blatant manipulation of the government, we have, what is that Muggle expression – stuffed the docks?"

Potter grinned, saying, "That's 'stacked the deck', Draco."

"Stacked the deck it is, Harry." He grinned back, and continued. "For example, we have an unfair advantage. Our houses are magical, and have been so for generations. That means underage magic isn't traceable if done inside such a house. You two, on the other hand, can be caught instantly if magic is done in your area. Oh, we justify it based on 'magical secrecy' and all that rot, but there are ways of getting around that, or would be if fairness was considered. For example, the Ministry knows where you people live, so they could easily write the law so that if your wand did magic inside your house, the Underage Restriction wouldn't apply.

"But that's not going to happen. Another example is private tutoring some of the pureblood families can afford. That makes us, in general, far readier for Hogwarts than Muggleborns. Examples? Take Potions tutoring. Potter here knows, but you two, Granger, Weasley – take a guess as to who my Potions tutor was."

Neither of his other companions said anything.

"The Potions professor at Hogwarts himself: Severus Snape."

Gasping, Granger said, "But that's so unfair! You… you'll be miles ahead of us!"

At that moment, Draco was unsure of whether to grit his teeth at her bossily injured tone, or feel sincerely regretful that he had never thought about all the unfair advantages purebloods heaped upon themselves. If they had been so sure that their blood status lent them an incalculable advantage over half-bloods and Muggleborns, why be so scared to the point of artificially entrenching a system of pureblood superiority?

The atmosphere got a bit awkward after that, and Weasley ended up making some inane comment about Gobstones, which Draco thankfully replied to, and the conversation got around to chess, and he and Ron animatedly talked for five minutes before the blond realised time was running out and he needed to get back with his father's "approved" friends.

The fair boy abruptly said, "So which houses do you think you'll all be in?"

Granger said, "Well, I read Hogwarts: A History, and it says there are four houses but I think Gryffindor or Ravenclaw would suit me, but I think Gryffindor's better."

He resisted the urge to grit his teeth, again, reminding himself that some people just weren't temperamentally suited for Slytherin. His stomach roiled a bit at the thought of re-entering the snake pit, and he wondered again about Ravenclaw.

Weasley said, "No contest. My family's been in Gryffindor for generations, so it'd be that for me. Maybe Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw, but they'd have a fit if I became a Slytherin."

Draco said, "It might be Ravenclaw, but I'm expecting it'd most likely be Slytherin for me."

He let that dangle, and Potter took the bait.

Harry said, "But wait a second. Hagrid told me a lot of bad wizards came from Slytherin."

Draco snorted, and replied, "Harry, I found out that one of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters was from Ravenclaw. Another was actually from Gryffindor. It's not just Slytherin. All it takes to be a Death Eater or Dark Wizard is a lack of moral principles and a willingness to do abominable things in the name of magic."

He bitterly thought to himself, And I should know. I was one, and look what I did with it – nearly got myself sliced to pieces when I almost used the Cruciatus on Potter!

Coming back to the immediate conversation, Draco said, "But anyway, your father, Harry, was in Gryffindor. You look a lot like your father, so just like me, people will judge you on that basis. In particular, I need to warn you again to stay on Professor Snape's good side. Don't backtalk him in class, ever. And look at him when he talks to you. I found out from my father that Sever.. Sorry, Professor Snape had some bad experiences with your father and his friends. Don't give him the chance to assume you're like your dad that way."

Slowly, Harry said, "Maybe if that's the case I shouldn't be in Slytherin, if it comes with all that baggage."

Draco sighed, and said, "Yes, but think about it – if you're in Slytherin, Snape'll be your head of house. It'll be hard to identify you with your Gryffindor father if you're in Slytherin. You want to stand on your own, don't you?"

He wondered if he had really convinced the other three that Slytherin House was not the epitome of horrid evil. He had spotted Slytherin traits in Potter repeatedly, even when he had been a Gryffindor. Potter could brood at times, disconnecting a bit from his friendships in Gryffindor and considering the world in his own solitary way. Slytherins brooded a lot, especially when they, like Potter, had to bear up under the weight of multiple expectations. Gryffindors never brooded, as far as he could tell – and he'd certainly done his fair share of intense observation of Gryffindors.

Even more daringly, Draco realised this could be a coup of immense proportions. Potter had always been Dumbledore's Gryffindor Golden Boy, and by proxy, Gryffindor itself could do no wrong. What if Potter became his Slytherin Golden Boy? The old man's benevolence toward a house traditionally associated with far too many dark wizards could turn the house around and sway some of the undecided people to the light instead of the dark.

Slowly, Harry said, "I didn't know that about my dad. Hagrid praised my mum and dad to the skies, but now that you've told me a different side of things, I'm not sure I want people to think I'm exactly like my dad. But how do we get to where we think our Houses should be?"

"Easy. There's a hat. It considers your mind, and then Sorts you. However, I suspect that if you ask the hat for a House, it might consider your request. And don't go around telling anyone else – yes, Weasley?"

Ron was laughing and scowling. "Bugger me! The twins said I had to wrestle a troll! And all it is, is a sodding hat?"

The young celebrity laughed, saying, "Ron, your twins sound like they were having some fun at your expense. Do they like pranks or something?"

The redhead replied, "Oh, yes, they're always up to something. My mum has probably had to yell at them at least once a week about it! They even promised to send Ginny – that's my sister – a Hogwarts toilet seat, if you can believe that!"

Laughter went around the compartment, and Draco thought the tension had eased at about the right point. He decided now was as good a time as any to make his exit.

Draco said, "Anyway, look, I'm knackered. I should go.

"Whatever House you end up in, just remember that we're all going to be in the same school for the next seven years. I may not be able to show my acquaintanceship with you all openly, but rest assured I mean you no harm. All right?"

Harry winked and nodded, while Granger just looked a bit perplexed. Nevertheless, both waved good-bye along with Ron, and Draco shakily wiped the sweat off his forehead as he trudged back to the compartment where Pansy, Vincent and Gregory had been waiting.

Pansy shrilly spoke, saying, "What took you so long, Draco?"

Draco smirked, saying, "You'll never guess who I found on the train."

Even Vincent and Gregory seemed interested enough to give their attention as one of them said, "So who was it, Draco?"

Savouring the words, Draco drawled, "The Boy Who Lived."

Excitedly, Pansy said, "Maybe we should go take a look!"

Suddenly, the blond realized he actually didn't want Pansy rushing up to Harry and fawning all over him. He sneered and said, "Good luck. Practically everybody wants a look and I only had a chance to say hello and then get pummelled by all the other idiots surrounding me."

Pansy's face fell, and Draco cheered inwardly even as he knew he was being a bit spiteful at wanting to keep the Boy-Who-Lived to himself.

Author Note:

So, here we are :) Thoughts and comments are appreciated regarding the interactions of our new and improved Draco Malfoy. Thanks go to Maddevillechilde and Kirinin for the beta work.

Addendum - Draceonin made a good point about the value of money, and on reflection even for Draco 40 Galleons for both Crabbe and Goyle is a bit too extravagant. I've lowered than to ten Galleons for each. :-)