Chapter One: The Hogwarts Express
The weather was quite warm, almost unpleasantly so, which was unusual for the first of September. At King's Cross station, the muggy atmosphere turned what would have been a very loud group of parents saying goodbye and children screaming greetings from many metres away to a rather subdued, chattering bunch. By eleven o'clock, all of the students were finally on board and the near silence of the platform was broken by the shrill whistle of the Hogwarts Express as the train began to roll away and out of sight.
Inside of the train, however, the desire to talk and gossip easily overcame their sluggishness. All up and down the train, rumours flew and newspapers were passed around. The only compartment avoided by the rest of the students was one at the very back, where the teenage boy responsible for being the fuel of so many of the latest fanciful rumours sat quite alone.
The boy was obviously going through his teenage awkward phase; his bangs hung in front of his face, the dark pants he wore were ever-so-slightly too long for him and the uniform robes he wore over those were rumpled, making it appear as though he had slept in them. At this age of sixteen, many of his year mates were beginning to show a sort of spark, a passion in their eyes that brought them to life. It was clear by the dark, stormy color of his eyes that he had no spark, no inspiration.
Whereas in his past five years at Hogwarts, he had given everyone the image of perfection and confidence, a walking Adonis, he now looked like what he truly was: a teenage boy lacking a purpose.
He sat next to the window, head leaning against the glass, watching the scenery fly by as the train traveled onward. Other than the occasional blink and the slow rise and fall of his chest, the boy showed no signs of life. With his white-blonde hair, alabaster skin and fair features, he almost resembled a statue.
Ten minutes into the ride, when he had just begun to hope that he would left to himself, the door to the compartment slid open and a man cleared his throat softly.
"Mr. Malfoy. Would you mind if I joined you?" he asked softly. The boy wondered why; perhaps, like so many other "sympathetic" adults, he thought that the slightest amount of time left alone and he would break in two. Without turning to look at the newcomer, he shrugged one shoulder in a gesture of consent.
Ignoring the sounds of the man putting away his trunk and sliding the door shut behind him, the boy continued to stare out the window. For some time they continued to sit in silence, until the man spoke once more.
"How did you find the summer homework for Defence Agianst the Dark Arts, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked. When no reply came, he prompted, "Difficult? Simple?"
"Draco," said the boy suddenly, though he continued to stare outside rather vacantly. His voice was rough, as though he had been screaming—or crying, thought the man opposite him. He had every right to be upset, considering what had happened at the end of his previous year of school.
"I'm sorry?" he said, and awaited an answer. Again, it took a moment before the boy spoke again.
"Don't call me Mr. Malfoy," he clarified.
"Alright then, Draco," said the man. The name sounded strange coming from him, after knowing this boy as Mr. Malfoy for all of his previous term of teaching several years previous. "The summer homework?"
"It was fine," answered Draco, and this time his response came slightly faster.
"Too easy?"
"It was fine, Professor Lupin." And they lapsed into silence again. Remus Lupin realised that nothing more would be forthcoming at the moment and took out his copy of The Daily Prophet, feeling a lump form in his throat at the story on the cover. "TWO OF THE DARK LORD'S FOLLOWERS DEAD," the headline proclaimed. The article then spoke of the mysterious death of Sirius Black, escaped murderer and wanted Death Eater, and... his eyes flicked over the boy as he caught sight of the other name.
Lucius Malfoy.
Well, that explained why the name Malfoy was being flung around up and down the corridor... he watched the boy for a moment more before turning back to the paper and beginning to read the article from the paragraph detailing Malfoy Sr.'s death.
The late Lucius Malfoy had been arrested on the night of
the strange events in the Department of Mysteries when Harry
Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Luna Lovegood and
Ginevra Weasley reportedly fought Death Eaters there. The Minister
of Magic has since declared that the Dark Lord is back.
Lucius Malfoy was taken to Azkaban Prison, awaiting trial
for the charges of breaking and entering into a government facility,
conspiring with Dark witches and wizards, possession of the Dark
Mark and various attempts at murder. The morning of his trial,
Malfoy was found dead in his cell. It was pronounced a homicide,
though the Aurors are not actively pursuing the case, choosing
instead to focus their efforts on finding the Dark Lord.
Lucius Malfoy leaves behind his widow, Narcissa Black-
Malfoy and his teenage son, Draco.
Remus folded the paper and carefully replaced it in his bag. He studied the boy carefully, looking for the signs of grief. They were certainly there—his clothing and hair were obvious testaments to his feelings. He looked thinner, though Remus could not say for sure, not having seen him in over three years.
"Anything from the trolley?" asked the kind witch pushing the cart of sweets. The man shook his head. "How about you, dear?" The boy gave no answer, no sign that he had heard her at all.
"Draco," said Remus. "Do you want anything from the cart?"
"No," answered Draco softly. The man gave the woman a smile, and she rolled on down the corridor. As Remus closed the door again, he heard voices calling out for sweets, one after another until the door slid shut once more.
"You know," the man began thoughtfully, "I could never figure out what you Slytherins thought of me." He made it a statement, though he obviously wanted a response from the boy.
"You're a werewolf," said Draco flatly. It was obvious that he personally had no negative feelings towards the man because of this, but to him, it expressed everything.
"That I am," replied the professor. "But Severus is a Dark wizard, and I've seen the way you all look to him so fondly."
"Professor Snape is our head of house," said Draco, again in an expressionless tone.
"Ah, yes. He thinks of you and speaks for you when no one would otherwise, correct?" asked the man. He received the one-shoulder shrug that he had very quickly come to take as a yes. "I hope to change that. It will be important, with the upcoming war, to gain the trust and respect of our students. All of our students."
"For many of us, you come too late," replied Draco. He sounded almost sad, the man noted, which made him ask himself a very important question that he then expressed aloud.
"Are we too late for you, Draco?" asked Remus, staring at him. He finally got a reaction from the boy, who turned to face him and their eyes met. The icy grey eyes were staring straight into his own dark brown, but there was no anger there. Strangely enough, there was no pain either.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, a slight bit of curiosity leaking into his voice.
"Simple," said Remus with a small smile, "you are going to be my student very soon. I was hoping to speak to you, to get to know you. I meant what I said, when I told you that I want the trust and respect of all of my students. That includes you."
Draco did not seem to know what to say, but he was spared having to answer when the compartment door opened yet again to reveal three Gryffindors.
"Oh look, it's the ferret," said a tall, thin boy with red hair named Ron. He sneered at the blonde, but Draco had no retort and turned back to the window. "What? Don't want to face us since your daddy died a criminal?"
"Mr. Weasley, five points from Gryffindor," said Remus stiffly, his eyes silently reproaching Ron. "That comment was completely out of line." The red head seemed to gape and looked like a fish without water for a moment, until the girl with bushy hair named Hermione intervened, clearing her throat and talking to both Draco and Remus.
"Sorry, Professor," she said, and Remus nodded his head in acceptance of her apology. "Malfoy, why weren't you in the Prefects' carriage? It's time for the meeting."
"I'm not a Prefect," he said without turning his head.
"That's what the Head Boy told us," she said, sounding slightly irritated. "Your name was listed as the Slytherin boy, just like last year—"
"They sent me a badge," he said, and Hermione looked quite exasperated until he finished. "I sent it back."
"Oh," she said. "Well. I suppose we're done here. Goodbye, Professor Lupin. See you in class."
"Goodbye, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," said Remus, smiling at the Gryffindors as they closed the door and walked away.
Once they were gone, Draco turned his head back to Remus and asked, "Why did you do that?"
"Do what?" asked the professor, genuinely confused.
"Take points from them," Draco answered.
"What Mr. Weasley said was out of line," answered Remus. "Any professor would have." He paused for a moment, thinking about that. "Well, any professor should have. I was quite serious about what I told you, Draco. I would greatly like to have your trust and respect."
Draco eyed him for a moment before turning back to the window, this time drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them close to him. Remus wondered what he had done wrong, and watched the boy until he fell asleep.