There apears to have been some confusion in the last chapter. Just so everyone is QUITE clear on this point: this is NOT a HarryGinny story (I promise!), nor is it a DracoBelle (I mean, get a grip, people!). For all of you who know me, this should be obvious. As for Draco flirting with Belle, he was bored, she's hot, and it gets him closer to Harry. That's all he wanted.
Oh yeah, and people? If you're going to bash my story, please don't do it in an anonymous review. That's just plain cowardly. Bash it all you want, just so long as I can answer it and explain exactly why it doesn't need bashing.
None of the characters in this chapter are mine. I promise. Now, on to the story.

2: beginnings

Harry arrived at the Burrow towards the middle of August. Ron's mum sent his trunk upstairs to Ron's room, then attempted to squeeze the life out of Harry himself. Harry returned her embrace, but Ron fancied that he could see a slight grimace of annoyance. Ron sympathized: he knew the feeling all too well. Harry finally escaped her crushing hold, only to receive two more, one from each of the twins. He pushed them away, laughing.

"I've been out of Malfada Hopkirk's reach all summer," he reminded them. "I might have forgotten that I can't do magic outside of school."

Fred and George exchanged glances. "We're terrified, aren't we?" Fred asked.

George nodded. As one, they dropped to their knees, hands clasped and extended towards Harry, the picture of humble supplicants.

"Forgive us our trespasses, oh noble protector of Weasleys," George intoned.

"Teach us to make mischief and break all rules," Fred put in.

"Allow us to learn from you and bask in your greatness."

"Give us the gift of galleons and permit us to use them to benefit you."

They paused for a beat, then said together, "A-money!"

Everyone burst out laughing, except for Mrs. Weasley, and they managed to bow while on bend knee. Harry grinned at them, and bent down to whisper something. They listened intently, then nodded. An intense dialogue ensued, until Harry stood straight again, apparently satisfied.

Ron gave Harry a curious glance. "Tell you when we get out of your mother's hearing," Harry muttered.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You know the way to London?"

Harry laughed. "No. You?"

"Unfortunately not. Guess we'll have to shut ourselves up in my room."

Harry managed to extract himself from the rest of Ron's family, using unpacking as an excuse, and the two of them pounded up the stairs. Ron shut his door behind them, then turned to face Harry. "So what's going on between you and the twins? There's obviously something you're not telling us."

Harry's face took on a slightly guilty cast. "Promise you won't tell your mother?"

Ron nodded.

"They're making me special orders of all of their skiving snackboxes. I promised them to be their PR person at Hogwarts this year, and they decided that I should be able to give out samples."

Ron stared. "They never asked me to do that!"

"That's because you report to your mum," Harry told him, grinning. "They have doubts about your ability to withstand an inquisition."

Ron felt his irritation atwith the twins build up. "I can! I didn't tell her all last year!"

Harry shrugged. "They also mentioned Hermione."

"Hermione?"

"They said that she wouldn't approve."

Ron's face was flaming. He resolved that he was going to personally murder both twins as soon as he possibly could. "Since when do I do things based on whether or not Hermione approves?"

There were two sharp cracks in succession, and Fred and George themselves popped into the room.

"What's that about Hermione?" Fred asked, dusting off his robes.

"Nothing!" Ron shouted, his face flaming. Why did they do that to him?

"Nonsense! You were telling Harry, weren't you?"

"Telling Harry what?" Harry asked. He caught Ron's eye, a winked ever so slightly. "Are you telling me that you're in love with Hermione, George?"

George looked horrified. "Me?! Harry, who told you that?"

"You did," Harry answered.

"When?"

Harry grinned. "That would be telling."

Fred put on a mock frown, and advanced on George. "Is there something you're not telling me, George Maverick Weasley?"

George hung his head. "Curses, foiled again! You are going to be getting something nasty in your food tonight, Potter!"

Harry grinned. "Forewarned is forearmed," he intoned. Then his face changed. "Maverick?!" he spluttered, trying to contain his laughter.

George sighed. "It's long been the bane of my existence," he said sorrowfully. "Mum named me after a boy she knew at school."

Ron stared. "What?!" he demanded. "I didn't know that!"

"There are many things you don't know," Fred told him.

Harry was looking at Fred in interest. "So what's your middle name?" he asked.

Fred and George exchanged glances, then shook their heads in unison. Ron snickered. Both turned to glare daggers at him. "If you say anything," Fred warned.

Ron held up his hands in innocence. "My lips are sealed," he said innocently.

They eyed him speculatively, but he knew them. They wouldn't press the threat, thinking him properly cowed. "Hey Harry, you want to play some Quidditch?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "Let me grab my broom." He bent down and flipped open his trunk, removing the broom from the top. He nodded to the twins, then followed Ron down the stairs. As soon as they'd left the house, Ron grinned.

"Delphinium," he whispered. Harry goggled at him, then burst out laughing.

Over dinner that night, Harry gave them all selected excerpts from his trip with Hermione. He had them all laughing by the end, and by the time they'd recovered, Ron had completely forgotten about George's threat to add something extra to Harry's meal. George obviously hadn't, though, because by the time Mrs. Weasley brought out the desert, he and Fred were exchanging gleeful looks. Fred looked down at his watch, as though counting down the seconds. Ron couldn't help glancing at his own watch. Three seconds to seven. He heard Fred counting down, and then suddenly, he felt an awful disintegrating feeling. A moment later, he was suspended from the chandelier. Harry was sitting on the window, looking distinctly surprised. Ron looked down at Fred and George, who were roaring with laughter. Mrs. Weasley was on her feet, wand out, but a moment later, Ron felt the disintegrating again. He landed with a thump on his chair, and slumped down to the floor. He scrambled back up, glaring at the twins. Harry had managed to land standing up, and he was wobbling precariously. He jumped off just before his chair toppled over, and steadied himself with the table before leaning down to pick it up again.

"What just happened?" Ron demanded. He'd thought that he knew all of Fred and George's tricks, but he'd never heard of something that transported someone across a room and back again.

George grinned. "Apparating Apparatuses," he said smugly. "For under aged wizards."

"Are you both insane?" Mrs. Weasley burst out. "There's a reason that under aged wizards can't Apparate!"

"They're perfectly safe, mum," Fred assured her. "We put every safeguard that we know on them."

"How do they work?" Ginny asked, her eyes turning speculative.

"You tell it where you want to go, tap it with your wand, and eat it. It'll take you to the destination you requested. It's advised to have one in your pocket for the return," George explained.

Mrs. Weasley frowned disapprovingly. "What's to stop a child from using them?" she demanded.

"Well, you have to have a wand, for one," Fred said. "You have to have your wand. And they're not on sale to under-elevens anyway."

"And they always work?" Ginny asked again.

George shrugged, and dug into his pocket. He produced two marble-like objects and handed them to Ginny. "They don't work in anti-apparition wards," he warned her. "And once you activate one, you have to use it within an hour or it goes dead and you have to throw it out."

Ginny nodded, looking slightly disappointed. She looked at the marbles in her hand, then pulled out her wand and tapped one. "The kitchen," she said clearly. She popped it into her mouth, then closed her eyes as she swallowed. They waited a beat, then there was a sharp crack, and she vanished. A moment later, they heard her delighted exclamations. "That is utterly brilliant!"

"Any time," Fred hollered. "Though you only get two free ones, you know."

She walked back into the dining room, pocketing the remaining Apparating Apparatus. "How much are they?"

"Depends on how many you want," Fred told her. "Remind me to send you our catalogue at school."

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat pointedly. "If you have all quite finished," she said sharply.

Fred and George looked instantly contrite. "Yes mum," they said together. They exchanged wicked glances, and Mrs. Weasley hurried into the kitchen, muttering loudly about boys who were playing with fire.

George watched her go fondly. "Mum worries," he confided to Harry. "She thinks that we'll either accidentally kill someone else, or kill ourselves."

"Though we're not sure which she worries about more," Fred added. "Great to see you Harry, but we have to go. Appointment." He grimaced. The twins stood, and disappeared at the same time.

Harry had been watching Ginny ever since he arrived at the Burrow. Last year, he'd been completely obsessed with Cho, but now that she was out of his life, he had time to admire other girls. Ginny was very pretty, he thought, watching her haggle with George over the price of some of the more obscure items in their catalogue. More than that, in fact. She had a presence. You always knew when she entered a room, or, at least, Harry did. He knew that if he talked to anyone about his feelings for her, he would be hexed six ways to Sunday. Ginny had very protective brothers, all of whom were bigger than he was, and as he admired the way she fought with George, he realized what bothered him about that. It wasn't that it would stop him from being with her, though that could eventually be a problem. It was that Ginny did not need protection. She was strong, stronger than anyone Harry knew. Certainly, she was stronger than he was. She'd managed to keep Voldemort at bay for an entire year when she was eleven, while Harry had only been able to slow him down with the help of Ron and Hermione. No, Ginny Weasley certainly did not need protection.

But did she need what he wanted to give her? Harry didn't know, or even, for that matter, what it was that he wanted her to have. Why couldn't this be easy, like it had been with Cho? With Cho, Harry had finally admitted that he liked her, and she'd assumed that that meant taking her out on soppy dates to pink-infested coffee shops. Harrowing though the experience had been, at least, what Harry considered a proper date. Ginny, he was almost certain, had never set foot in Madam Puddyfoot's, and he couldn't imagine her wanting to take him there. He could, however, picture kissing her under the mistletoe quite clearly.

He stood and moved out of the room, trying to remove himself from the source of temptation. He couldn't have Ginny, and that was that. She was Ron's sister, and Harry didn't want to test his friendship with Ron that much. And then, of course, there was the fact that Ginny didn't seem to return his interest at all. Harry sighed in frustration. This was getting him nowhere, and he was tired of going in circles. The thought gave birth to an idea, and Harry grinned. If he was going to go in circles, he might as well be doing something constructive. He ran up the stairs to the room he shared with Ron and grabbed his Firebolt. He though briefly about taking off through the window, but regretfully decided not to. The window wasn't tall enough, and he didn't want to give Mrs. Weasley even more to worry about.

Instead, he ran lightly back down the stairs, and out the door. Once in the open area where generations of Weasleys had practiced Quidditch, Harry took off. He flew as high as he dared, and urged his Firebolt to faster speeds than ever. The air whipped his hair away from his face and stung his eyes, but he didn't care. He felt free, as he always did when he was flying, and he let go, urging the broom on with only his knees. He spotted the Burrow in the distance, and grinned in sheer delight. And then, he spotted the figure speeding towards him. Ginny. The very person he'd been trying not to think about. She was carrying a ball under her arm, and expertly maneuvering her own broom. When she got within shouting distance, she grinned wickedly. "I thought I'd find you here. Want to play?"

Harry shrugged. "I won't go easy on you," he cautioned.

"Good," she answered. "Look out!" She sped towards him, intent on the tree that they used as a goal hoop. He blocked her way, forcing her to swerve to avoid him. She lost her grip on the Quaffle as she did so, and he swooped to scoop it out of the air. He waved back at her as he zoomed towards the opposite end of the field, and deposited the ball in the other tree with a triumphant shout.

"You'd make a fair chaser," she said, scowling good naturedly, then grabbed the ball before it could fall.

"That's your job," he shouted back, trying to block her. She laughed as she swerved expertly and dropped the ball in her tree. The game continued, with both of them scoring points and rescuing the ball. Harry felt his troubles fly away as he laughed, content just to be in her presence. In all his agonizing about her, he'd forgotten that Ginny was most of all a fun person to be with. Finally, they landed, breathless and laughing. "We should do that more often," she gasped when she'd recovered the ability to speak. "You're so much better than Ron."

"So are you," Harry said. "Are you going to try out for the team this year?"

She shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. Do you think I should?"

Harry was suddenly aware of how close they were. He thought about moving away, but she didn't seem to mind. "Yeah," he said, trying to control his voice. "Yeah, I think you should."

She stopped suddenly, and looked at him. "Harry?" she asked quietly. "Tell me the truth please. Are you doing this because I'm Ron's sister?"

Confused, he shook his head. "No. I'm spending time with you because I like you."

She looked relieved. She looked at the ball that she still held, and seemed to be choosing her words carefully. Finally, she said quietly. "Harry, how much do you like me?"

He frowned. Was this a trick question? "A lot," he answered cautiously.

"Enough to ask me out?"

Harry's breath caught in his chest. "Yes," he whispered.

She finally looked up at him, and he felt his chest tighten at the look in her bright brown eyes. "Good," she said simply. She started walking away.

Harry was about to follow her, when he realized just what her words had meant and what he was supposed to do. "Ginny!" he called.

She stopped again, and he ran to catch up with her. "Do you want… I mean, would you like… I mean, will you go out with me?"

She smiled, but her eyes were boring into his. "Yes," she answered firmly.

"Good," Harry managed. She laughed and, after a moment, he joined in. He felt a release of all the tension that had built up in him, tension that he had barely been aware of until that moment. He slowly reached over and touched her. She looked at him, wide eyed, and he moved closer.

They walked back together eventually, holding hands.

And so, I got ready to start my sixth year at Hogwarts expecting it to be no different from the last five. My mother took me to Diagon Alley to purchase me school supplies two weeks before the start of school. I'd timed the trip to avoid most of the others: it was too soon for the last-minute people, and too late for the organized ones, but I was out of luck. I soon saw that just about everyone else from Hogwarts had had exactly the same idea, and bunches of students were being escorted around by anxious looking mothers and fathers. My own mother seemed to be attached to me by the hip, and she didn't seem about to leave any time soon. I endured her clucking and fussing for a while, but finally, I lost my temper. "I am capable of shopping alone, Mother," I informed her tartly when she showed no sign of leaving after an hour and a half.

She didn't answer, but she didn't leave, either. I gritted my teeth together, and decided to leave at the soonest opportunity. I endured her company at Madam Malkin's, then sneaked out as she was discussing prices and fashion with one of her acquaintances.

I wandered down the street, hoping against hope that I wouldn't run into Harry and his cronies. Naturally, as life is so often kind, I spotted them almost immediately. Even more naturally, they spotted me as well. Weasley was the one who saw me first, and he muttered something, almost certainly something rude, to Harry and the Granger girl. They too, I noticed, had managed to ditch their accompanying adult. We advanced towards each other until we met halfway, standing in the middle of the road. "I thought you'd be with your mum, Malfoy," Weasley jeered. "Isn't she worried that her son will go the same way as her husband?"

"Shut up, Weasley," I snarled. "You wouldn't be so brave if you didn't have Potter and Granger to protect you!"

"Ron's more than a match for you, Malfoy," Harry shot back. "Unlike you, he actually passed his OWLs."

"And what makes you think I didn't pass, Potter?" I asked. I had, in fact passed all my OWLs, and managed even to collect two Outstanding grades. I was willing to bet that he'd at least failed History of Magic, seeing how he'd collapsed mid-way through the exam. It gave me a feeling between happiness and guilt to realize that I'd done better than him.

"Let's get out of here," Granger begged. "We don't need to associate with him."

They turned away. I could see that Weasley was the angriest, as usual. That caused a slight hollow in my chest. Harry had learned to tune me out, and I apparently didn't even register as anything more than a minor annoyance on his radar. The fact made my inner heart want to weep, but I've learned to shut that part out of my own radar over the last six years. If I'm going to survive in the real world, I have to face things the way they really are. That was a hard lesson to learn, but I think I've mastered it at last.

I watched them walk away, then hurried on to do my own shopping. It was only a matter of time until my mother caught up, and when she did, I knew that I had to have finished my personal shopping. I headed towards the end of the alley, and turned a corner. There, in the dingy shops that most people didn't realize existed, I spotted the shop I was looking for. I slipped inside the shop that my mother would never have allowed me to set foot in, and stood for a moment, savoring the aura of the place.

I've always been fascinated with what I suppose can be called the darker aspects of wizardry. Not the actual Dark Arts (despite my father's efforts in my earlier life), but the things that are not generally talked about in mainstream society. This particular shop, one of the countless anonymous venues that lined this alley, had exactly what I wanted for prices I could afford. I may be the only heir to the Malfoy family, but I'm still underaged, and therefore don't have access to the entire fortune yet. Though my pocket money is still more that the Weasleys' own all together. I ducked into a corner of the shop and quickly preformed a subtle charm on myself: enough to change my appearance slightly, but not enough for anyone I knew not to recognize me. The owners of this place know who I am, but any customers who might wander in would be better off not realizing that the son of a convicted Death Eater was patronizing this particular shop.

Suitably disguised, I made my way out into the open again. I wandered through the rows of interesting objects, being careful not to touch anything, and stopping to examine the ones that seemed to be interesting. I didn't know yet if I was going to buy anything. I never do, until I've looked at the entire stock. The owner of the place, thankfully, didn't feel the need to come and assist me. He appears to have realized long ago that anyone who came into his shop was better off on their own, and that if they needed his help, they'd demand it. So, I wandered among the questionable objects alone, lost in my thoughts.

These thoughts were, as usual, about him. Much as I dislike it, Harry Potter dominates my mind most of the time when I'm alone. This time, I didn't even bother trying to deny my wistful mind its right to daydream, and I drifted through the shelves imagining him next to me. Finally, though, I had to come back to the real world. I'd reached the end of the stock, and my time was ending. I made my decision quickly and grabbed a small black object. I was almost certain that I knew what it was, and if I was wrong… well, that's the fun of experimenting, right?

I placed the thing on the owner's desk, alerting his attention in the process. He didn't try to talk, only grunted at me and muttered something intelligible that ended with, "Seven galleons." I frowned at him, then back down at the black disk. If it was what I thought it was, then it wasn't worth seven, it was worth about seventy. But I wasn't about to argue, and I fished into my pocket and came up with the required change. The owner took it without comment, and I took the disk and shoved it into my pocket as I turned to leave. Just as I was about to walk away, the owner called out. That was such an unusual event that I actually stopped.

"What did you say?"

The owner beckoned me closer. I complied, and he murmured, "D'you know what it is you're buying?"

"It's a power receptacle," I answered, wondering why he was bothering. I'd already paid for the thing, so why was it his problem?

He shrugged. "If that's what you want to think," he said. "Just know this: it can take more than you're willing to give."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, but he only shook his head and returned to whatever he'd been so fervently contemplating for the rest of my visit. Surprised and profoundly curious, I left the shop and removed my glamour. I was most certainly going to have to do some experiments on it, and soon!

I found my mother looking anxiously around for me, and I had to survive an angry lecture about the dangers of wandering around alone, especially for me. I hardly listened to any of her scoldings, dwelling instead on the receptacle. I had no idea what he meant, unless he'd been trying to tell me that it stole power. I'd known that perfectly well when I bought the thing, and that was one of the things that had attracted me to it. There are times in your life when you could really use someone else's power. Or at least, someone else being powerless. I supposed that there might be side effects to absorbing too much, but they would be minor, and I had complete faith in my ability to dominate any magical object. I was rather a fool, I know, but all people are.

She dragged me out of Diagon Alley almost literally by my wrist, and wouldn't even let me go to floo out of the Leaky Cauldron. Once back to the Manor, she took all of my school things and gave inaudible instructions to the House-Elf, presumably telling it to see to the packing. Then, she announced that she was going to her room, and that I was not to leave the property. I agreed and she left me to my own devices. I waited until I was sure she was gone, then ran up the stairs to my own room.

Getting ready for a new school year has always been something that I particularly dread. It's not so much that I don't like school, though I don't care for it much, but it's mostly the loss of almost absolute freedom. Even when my father was home, he could really care less about what I did over the holidays, and I was left to my own devices. To be perfectly honest, I was almost raised more by the succession of House Elves than by my parents. I adored my mother, and she seemed to return the sentiment, but she wasn't actually there very often. When she was home, she would spend time with me and tell me stories and run up the stairs just to slide down the banister with me, but more often than not, she wasn't home. When I was younger, I thought that she was a very important person, and I was immensely proud of her. As I grew older and learned just who my father was and what it meant, I realized that she spent time away from home to avoid meeting him.

This year, it should have been less stressful. After all, my father wasn't going to burst into my room and lecture me about the duties and privileges of being a prefect. Last year, I'd been lectured to an inch of my life about how Malfoys had always been prefects, and about how I was continuing a long held tradition. It was enough to make me sick. Quite honestly, I hadn't wanted to be a prefect at all, and I certainly hadn't wanted to have it rubbed in even more. I was sure that my father expected me to abuse my power and give the Gryffindors hell (which I had duly done, even managing to summon a certain amount of joy in the process). Now that he wasn't yelling at me, I found myself strangely disconcerted. It had been like that all summer. I supposed that that was yet one more reason why I'd gone to America. At the Manor, his presence was everywhere. I kept expecting him to burst into whatever room I was currently occupying and demand to know what I was doing. When he didn't, I realized that it scared me even more than his actual presence. There's nothing worse than the devil you can see, except for the devil you can't.

I slipped on a pair of black jeans, wishing momentarily that I could wear them at school. They were amazingly comfortable, and, by my standards, affordable. Of course, by my standards, most things are. I supposed that the Weasleys would have a harder time buying jeans for all their children. Not that I cared, of course. The Weasleys could all drop dead and starve, for all I cared. I looked at my prefect badge, hating the piece of green metal. There would be no point in putting it on yet, and I slipped it into my pocket. I pulled on a long sleeved back T-shirt, one that clung to my figure enough to show it off. I am proud of the way I look, and see no problems with letting the world know it. I arranged my ice blond hair carefully, wondering if I should get it cut. Long hair was fashionable, but it did tend to get in the way. Finally, I decided to leave it the way it was. It wasn't that long, after all. I pushed open the door and walked down the stairs. My mother was waiting for me, and she smiled encouragingly as I opened the door to leave. "Good luck," she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. I smiled back at her, and then left the house. My trunk was already in the car, and I got into the back seat without saying anything to the driver. I didn't even know who it was.

We arrived at the station, and the driver opened the door for me. He pulled my trunk out the car and loaded it onto a trolley. Not waiting for him to catch up, I lengthened my stride until I reached the wall between platforms 9 and 10. I barely bothered to check for muggles, and walked through the barrier to platform 9¾, not waiting for the servant. He would come without my having to wait. My eyes were scanning the platform for Harry. I wasn't at all sure whether I wanted to see him or not, but looking for him has become such an engrained habit that I hardly noticed it. Yes, he was there, talking with Weasley and Granger. The Weasley girl was hanging around, and I realized very quickly just what they were to each other. I felt the familiar tug that was both anger and jealousy, and turned away. They didn't look at me, and I didn't look back again.

Though he hadn't reacted, Harry had seen Malfoy. He was hard to miss, walking around as if he owned the place. And, of course, his clothes hardly made him inconspicuous. The jean were very tight, as was the shirt, and Harry finally had to admit that he saw a very tiny bit of what Belle had seen in Malfoy. He'd said as much to Hermione, who shrugged. "Doesn't change who he is, though."

Ron looked at the two of them curiously. "Mind telling us what you're talking about?" he asked. Ginny nodded. Harry ignored the thrill of pleasure that he felt at her interest.

He looked at Hermione, who shrugged. "We ran into him this summer," she explained. Ron gave her a look that clearly stated that this was not enough. She sighed. "My younger sister decided to flirt with him."

"You have a younger sister?" Ron asked, incredulous. "Why didn't you ever say?"

"You've just never been listening," Hermione said. "I have a younger sister named Belladonna Athena Granger. She is a muggle and she is going into what would be her fifth year."

"Athena?" Ginny asked, hiding a grin.

"It's a family thing," Hermione said.

Ron looked confused. "Who's Athena?"

"She was the Greek Goddess of wisdom," Harry explained. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise. He shrugged. "It was one of the few subjects in primary school that I was actually good at." He grinned, remembering. "Dudley tore my report card up when he learned that I'd done better than him in History."

"That doesn't seem to have carried over into History of Magic," Hermione said dryly.

Harry shrugged. "Hermione, you know perfectly well that you are probably the only person in the history of Hogwarts who can actually remember what Binns says. It has nothing to do with anyone's actual skills in the subject, mine included."

She wisely chose not to pursue the topic, instead asking Ginny about her summer. As the two girls moved off towards the train, Ron said, "Harry, the truth now. Why was Malfoy following you?"

Harry looked at him gratefully. Finally, someone who agreed with him! "I don't know," he admitted. "Do you have any ideas?"

"No. What did he and Hermione's sister talk about?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know," he said, grimacing. "She wouldn't tell me. She insisted that he wasn't out to get us, though." He frowned, remembering that conversation. It hadn't gone well at all, and he described his confrontation to Ron. "She kept insisting that he was telling the truth," he said. "But she doesn't know him. And she wouldn't say anything else, just that he wasn't out to get us."

Ron's face tightened as he listened. "Maybe it'd be in everyone's best interest to find out the details," he said. "She has no idea who he is."

"We tried to explain it to her," Harry said. They were moving with the flow of students, maneuvering their trunks around knots of still talking students and adults. "Maybe she didn't get it. I don't think that Belle would give anything away, but she might not know what's important and what's not."

Ron nodded. "I'll ask Dad to forward a letter. I think he knows how to do it the muggle way. He might be able to get her to talk."

"Thanks," Harry said, wondering just what Mr. and Mrs. Granger would say when an envelope covered in stamps appeared in their letterbox. He suspected that they would take it substantially better than Aunt Petunia had. "I told Tonks about him. She said she'd look into it."

"That's better than nothing," Ron said. "How did she take it?"

Harry grimaced. "She didn't believe that he was trying to hurt us," he admitted.

Ron scowled. Before he could say anything else, the whistle that meant last call blew. The two boys boarded the train hurriedly and sat down with Hermione and Ginny, still engrossed in their respective summer holidays. Luna Lovegood drifted in after a little while and put her trunk in the overhead compartment without even appearing out of place. Ginny gave her a brief smile, then turned back to her conversation. Neville ran in just before the train was about to leave and breathlessly shoved his trunk next to Luna's. Harry was forcibly reminded of the airplane. In his mind, he heard the flight attendants' speech: Please be careful when placing items in the overhead lockers, as they may fall out and injure someone. Neville's trunk certainly looked capable of doing just that. Harry wondered if he would be able to get away with rearranging it, but decided just to make sure that he wasn't underneath it. He tried to move without being noticed, and ran into Hermione, doing the same thing. They traded glances, and he realized that she had had the exact same thought as him. They compromised by putting the Danger Trunk in the middle.

Harry should have been expecting Malfoy, of course. The Slytherin boy never lost an opportunity to torment Harry, and it had only been luck that had made Malfoy let him be over the summer. The only real surprise was that Malfoy was alone. There was no sign of either Crabbe or Goyle, and Harry summarized that they must have failed their OWLs. There was no point in coming back to school if you couldn't do anything.

Ron had come to the same conclusion, because he sneered. "Where are your two bodyguards, Malfoy? You think you'll be brave enough to take any of us on without them?"

"Shut up Weasley," Malfoy snarled. "I don't need anyone to protect me from you."

"Oh yeah?" Ron asked, standing up. His hand moved to his wand. Malfoy's did the same.

"What about you, Potter?" Malfoy asked, completely ignoring Ron. "Are you afraid to help your friend?"

Harry stood as well. "Ron doesn't need my help, Malfoy," he said. "He's more than capable of taking you down. All of us are. Or have you forgotten what happened last year?"

The dark look on Malfoy's face suggested that, no, he hadn't forgotten at all. His wand was pointed in an instant. "Are you trying to fight me, Potter?" he demanded. "If you are, why don't you just say it? I'd be more than happy to oblige you."

Harry shrugged. Hermione grabbed his arm. "Harry, don't!"

This seemed to annoy Malfoy even more. "Hiding behind the mudblood, Potter?" he asked, shooting Hermione a disgusted glare. "And you say that I'm a coward. At least I can defend myself. I don't rely on a girl, a mudblood girl, to protect me and get me out of scrapes!"

This was too much. Both Ron and Harry threw themselves on Malfoy. Hermione, though she made a token attempt to stop them, didn't seem too distressed. Luna, classically, wasn't even aware of what was happening, and Neville was trying to make himself unnoticed. Harry barely had time to take all this in before he was on Malfoy, trying his best to hurt the other boy so badly that he wouldn't be able to come back ever again. Ron seemed to share his sentiment, and they would almost certainly have killed him if the trolley witch hadn't intervened. Harry had never seen her do magic, though he'd always assumed that she was a witch, so when he felt himself being thrown away from Malfoy and back into his seat, the first person he looked at was Hermione. Hermione was staring at the trolley witch, though, and when Harry turned his attention to her, he saw that there was a long, pale white wand held in her hand. She was looking furiously at him and Ron, and when she had their full attention, she said, "Never have I seen such conduct! You should be ashamed of yourselves!" She turned to Malfoy, who was curled up in a ball on the floor of the train, tears streaming down his face. She clucked in sympathy, and preformed a series of quick healing charms. He stood, and glared at Ron and Harry. The trolley witch said something to him, and he glared one more time, then stalked out of the carriage. The trolley lady left as well, not even offering them anything to eat. Neville had to run after her to buy a package of Cauldron Cakes, which he split with Luna.

The train ride to Hogwarts started out much the same as always. I sat with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini and listened to them bicker. I was under the vague impression that they'd gotten together over the summer and that it wasn't going all that well, but I didn't really care. Blaise is all right, I guess, but Pansy really gets on my nerves. She attempted to hook up with me last term, but I made it quite clear that I wasn't interested. She pouted for most of the end of the year, then apparently found someone else to sink her teeth into. I wondered if I should pity Blaise, then decided that it wasn't worth the effort. He'd lived with her for the last five years, after all. He knew what he was getting into.

About halfway there, I stood up and announced that I was going to take a look around. The barely acknowledged me, still wrapped up in their quarrel, and I slid out into the corridor. I did this every year, sort of as a warm up, and I wondered sometimes why I bothered. They weren't going to treat me any differently as the years went by, and I had to get my heart crushed a little more when he looked at me with hatred. I am, of course, well aware that much of that hatred is my own fault. Ever since he refused to be my friend when we were eleven, I've been an absolute ass to him and his little friends. Still, it'd be nice if he made an effort to break the cycle of hate. Of course, I know that I'm almost certainly living in a dream world. I'm a firm believer in dreams, though, and don't find anything wrong with living in dream worlds. Not all the time, of course, but when it's needed.

And so, I made my way over to the carriage that contained Harry Potter. True to form, I barged in. Also true to form, they all looked suitably irritated. Unusually, though, it was them who started the argument. I honestly hadn't planned what I was going to say, but the biting responses to their comments seemed to fall out of my lips without my thinking about it. Unfortunately, I went too far. Again. Curses, I was prepared to take. I was used to being cursed, and I knew basically what to expect. But I hadn't been physically beaten for too long, unless you counted the Quidditch game last year, and I'd gotten soft. It hurt. It hurt a lot. They showed no sign of stopping, and it was fairly obvious that, had the trolley witch not intervened, I would have arrived at Hogwarts missing some teeth, at least. I hadn't thought that they would react so strongly to the insult to the Granger girl, which I suppose was stupid. I should have remembered that Harry and Weasley took them much more personally that Granger herself.

Though the trolley witch's spells had apparently restored my looks, it hadn't really done anything to dull my inner pain, and I wanted nothing more than to grab my broomstick and fly so high and fast that my pains and tears couldn't catch up. Except that many of them took the form of Harry Potter, who could. Back in my own carriage, I sat starring out the window, envisioning my escape, and carefully not listening to Pansy and Blaise, who'd apparently made up. They weren't kissing, thankfully, but I could sense one coming. I wondered if I could slip out again before it happened. Sugary romance has always sickened me.

In the event, they chose to postpone the kiss until they actually got to Hogwarts, and I even managed to have a sensible conversation with Blaise while Pansy went off to talk with her newest female ally. He'd passed all the OWLs I had, and we suspected that we'd be in all the same classes. It wouldn't be the ideal combination, but it was better than having all of my classes with people I can't stand. The rest of the journey passed, as usual, in silence. I haven't found anyone in the House of Snake worth talking to for long periods of time, and they're the only ones that I socialize with. Instead of socializing, I found myself planning the year. I never follow the plans that I make on the train, but it's always fun to try. My fantasy plans for the coming year involved rather a lot of bullying, abusing power, and talking to Harry. Yes, he's never far from my thoughts, but at least I only lust after him in my own mind. Unlike Pansy, who allows anyone who cares and most of us who don't to know the sordid details of her many love lives.

And so, I traveled in silence. When we finally reached Hogsmeade, I stood and stretched lazily. I was eagerly anticipating getting there, not so much for the feast as for the blessed solitude of my study that would follow. First, though, there was the annual speech and sorting, and I supposed that I would have to get through those, just as I'd done every year since I'd arrived. Pansy and Blaise were still talking, and I listened slightly when I heard my own name, but it was just a passing reference, and it was gone as fast as it had appeared. I ignored them again. The horseless carriages pulled us smoothly up the path to Hogwarts, and, almost before I realized it, we had arrived. I climbed out of the carriage ahead of Pansy, Blaise, and Millicent Bulstrode, who'd joined us without my noticing. Millicent didn't speak much more than I do, but most of the time, you knew when she was nearby. She had a very commanding presence, and my not having noticed that she was here spoke volumes about my preoccupation. I tried very hard to pull my mind out of my own head and back into the real world. It was a good thing that I did so, because it allowed me to bypass Peeves and his "highly amusing" trick of trying to set students' robes on fire.

The Great Hall was as packed and noisy as always. I slipped into the middle of the Slytherin table. It was a symbolic gesture, mostly, but it was enough. The double doors opened, and McGonagall came in leading a scraggily line of terrified first years. I looked them over impassively, wondering how many of them would be admitted into the House of Snake. McGonagall herded them into a roughly straight line, then Flitwick advanced and placed the Sorting Hat on the traditional stool. There was a hush throughout the Great Hall, and then the hat split near the brim and began to sing.

Every year, it is my task,
To sort you into houses.
Ever since this school began,
That job I have fulfilled.
But, magical hat as I am,
I long ago began to doubt,
The wisdom of this task.
So, though I shall do as I am bid,
I must caution you all.
Enemies of our world,
Will fight through hatred and strife.
Only united will they be beaten,
And only together will we win.

And now, my message has been told,
And I will continue to part you all,
For that is what I was enchanted to do.
For those clever, ambitious, and talented,
Willing to break a few rules,
For you is the house of the noble snake,
Also known as Slytherin.
You who, instead, turn to books for the truth,
And believe in the wisdom of your elders,
I propose the soaring eagle,
The house by the name of Ravenclaw.
If your heart is what guides you,
And you wish to be open and welcoming,
I give you the calming Badger,
Emblem of the house of Hufflepuff.
And finally, for you who are brave and true,
And will not refuse a challenge,
It is the roaring lion who will guide you,
Through the house of Gryffindor.
You now know what to think,
I have told you what to expect.
Let the sorting begin!

There was a moment of silence, then everyone seemed to remember where they were, and they burst into applause. I too clapped politely, but I was concentrating on the song. Was that hat telling us to all become one big happy family? That was certainly what it had sounded like, and I had to admit that it was highly improbable. No one from Gryffindor would even dream of being friends with a Slytherin, and the sentiment was entirely mutual. For that matter, no self-respecting Slytherin would be friends with anyone who wasn't also in the House of Snake.

McGonagall had begun to call out the names of the first years, and I supposed that I should pay attention. I couldn't concentrate on the names, though, and by the time she reached Zula, Kristy (Ravenclaw), I couldn't have said how many of the first years had been sorted into Slytherin. I supposed that I should at least remember their names, but that would come later. What was important was that they knew who I was, right?

When the Feast was finally over, I let Pansy round the first years up and herd them towards the stretch of wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. "Serpantard," Pansy said clearly. The wall faded, leaving a hole that we clambered through. "That's the current password," Pansy informed the first years as the wall closed behind us. "It will change around Halloween, and we'll communicate the new password to you when that happens. My name is Pansy Parkinson, and I am the sixth year prefect. My partner is Draco Malfoy." I looked them over, then nodded. "You can come to either of us if you have a problem," she said. "Girls, your dormitory is on the right. You'll be sleeping with the second year girls, so they should tell you how it works in this House. Boys, you sleep on the left. You get a dormitory to yourself, but that doesn't mean that you'll be allowed to stay up all night. Professor Snape, the head of our House, checks the dormitories, and you do not want to get caught by him. Now, I think that's all." She moved off, and the first years dispersed. I slipped away and headed towards my study. Once I'd arrived, I locked the door by both physical and magical means, and dropped myself into the familiar green chair. The House Elf had seen to it that my trunk was already here, and that the sheets were fresh. I undressed and climbed into bed, falling asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

Hermione too paid little attention to Dumbledore's speech. Her eyes were indeed fixed on the high table, but the man she was looking at was not the Headmaster. Professor Snape was sitting next to him, scowling at the world, and looking generally unpleasant. She couldn't keep her gaze off him.

Finally, Dumbledore sat down and the food appeared on the table. Hermione tore her eyes off the high table and began to eat. It was delicious, as always, and she kept her face firmly turned away from Ron, so that his perpetual shoving of food into his mouth wouldn't completely ruin her appetite.

"So who do you think the new Defense teacher will be?" Harry asked. Hermione noticed that he too was looking away from Ron.

She shrugged. "Whoever it is, I can only hope that he'll be better than some of the idiots we've had."

Ron snorted. "You seemed pretty fond of Lockheart, and he was the biggest idiot of the lot."

Hermione's face flamed. "Ron!" she hissed. "I was twelve!"

He shrugged. "He was still an idiot, though."

"Dumbledore didn't say anything," Harry cut in hurriedly. "Maybe he doesn't know yet."

Hermione looked at him gratefully. "Are you taking the class?"

"I think so. You?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course she is! She's taking all of them, isn't she?"

"No," Hermione protested. "I'm taking eleven classes, that's it."

"That's it?!" Ron spluttered. "Hermione, I'm only taking five."

She sniffed. "Just because you're willing just to coast along at the bare minimum doesn't mean that the rest of us are," she informed him. "Some of us care about our future careers."

"I care!" he protested. "But I don't see how taking eleven classes is going to help me with my future."

"That depends on what you want. If you're happy just taking a job as a janitor in the Ministry, then go on and keep this up. I can assure you, though, that if you want a real job, then you're going to need those NEWTs."

He glowered at her. "I'm taking five," he repeated sulkily. "So's Harry, isn't he?"

"I think so," Harry admitted. "But I don't know what I'm going to do when I get out of school. I haven't really thought that far ahead, you understand."

There was a silence during which Hermione had a startling revelation. 'He doesn't believe that he'll survive,' she realized with a start. 'He thinks that he'll be killed.'

Ron evidently came to the same conclusion, because he stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. "You might want to start," he said firmly. "I mean, it's only a couple years away now."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Finally he said quietly, "Yeah. Only a couple of years."

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks. Harry seemed to realize what they were thinking, because he made an effort to smile. "I'll think about it," he said. "Any suggestions?"

Ron smiled back. "You could always go professional," he suggested. "Any team would be glad to have you, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Can't you think of anything else?" she complained. "That's all you ever talk about, you know."

"Quidditch is amazing!" Ron protested. "It's not our fault, is it?"

"You could find something else to talk about," she suggested, without much hope of success. They were obsessed, and she knew that she would just have to live with it until they found something new to get obsessed about. She hoped that it would be soon. It was almost as bad as her father watching Rugby matches every Saturday without fail.

They finished their meals and Hermione stood up. "First years!" she called authoritatively. "First years, follow me." The cluster of frightened and bewildered eleven-year-olds trailed after her, making her think of sheep. She grinned, then sobered. She couldn't be calling them that to their faces, or they would accuse her of patronizing them. She remembered being eleven, and she knew just how frightened and proud they must be. They would only be her sheep in her own mind.

They got to the Gryffindor common room, and she let them in, making sure all of them knew the password. Once inside, she introduced herself and Ron, explained life at Hogwarts slightly, and sent them off to their dormitories. As they trouped away and she and the two boys watched them go, she sighed. Ron looked at her curiously. "I was just remembering what it was like on my own first day," she explained. "I was absolutely terrified, and convinced that I was going to hate it here."

"And did you?" Harry asked.

"At first," she admitted. "Then it got better."

Ron blushed beet red. "Sorry I was such a prat to you," he muttered.

She shrugged. "I lived," she said dismissively. "And you can't help being a prat, it's in your nature."

He scowled at her. "I am a prefect," he reminded her haughtily. "I can take points away from you, you know!"

"So am I," she shot back. "And you know as well as I do that you won't take points away from your own house. We've barely scraped the Cup in the last years the competition's been held."

"You think that we'll get it again this year?" Ron asked.

"We'd better," Harry said. "Just think what a disgrace we'd be to Fred and George if we failed to win it on their first year away. They'll think we're incompetent."

Hermione snorted. "They're more likely to think that we slacked off on the pranks," she said. "I don't recall them being happy about winning the cup, just about beating Slytherin."

Harry shrugged. "Even so. Besides, maybe without them we'll stand a better chance."

"Maybe," Ron agreed. "Though aren't you supposed to be spreading mischief in their place?"

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "What's this about spreading mischief?" she demanded.

Harry grimaced. "Ron!" he complained. "That was supposed to be a secret!"

"Sorry," Ron muttered.

"Well, now it's out. Spill!" Hermione commanded.

Harry sighed. "Fred and George recruited me as their PR-person," he said reluctantly. He glared at Ron. "And they haven't sent me their stuff yet, so I can't start."

"Oh," Ron said. "But eventually you'll get them, right?"

Harry nodded. "And when I do, you won't get to help me."

"Why not?!" Ron demanded.

Harry grinned at him. "Because they won't want to pay you," he answered. "And why would you do it without being paid?"

"They could give me free samples," Ron protested.

"In your dreams," Harry shot back. He looked at Hermione, shrugging. "I tried."

She scowled. "And what do you intend to do when they do get here?" she demanded.

He grinned. "I intend to advertise," he said simply. "And I promised them that I'd give out free samples."

"And what about me?"

"What about you? They've all been tested, and I won't do it in person. You know how gossip works."

"So what are you going to do, act like some kind of drug dealer?" She heard her voice rising, and fought to control herself.

He looked shocked. "Of course not!" he said fiercely. "What kind of person do you think I am, anyway? The flyers go up in the common rooms, and those who are interested owl Fred and George, or they talk to me and I give them samples."

"And how will they know to talk to you?"

Harry grinned again. "That's the truly genius part of it. The flyers are, as Fred and George put it, slightly psychic. Adults see nothing but another boring notice, students see the flyers, those who want to buy straight away see the address in Diagon Alley, and those who are skeptical see me."

She had to admit that it had potential. "And if you're caught?"

"I won't be. The kind of person who buys jokes isn't the kind who'd turn someone in to a teacher."

"I suppose. And just when are these things supposed to arrive?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. They'll come by owl, but I expect Fred and George to have devised some sort of concealment method. It wouldn't do for me to get stacks and stacks of paper, after all."

"True," Hermione admitted. She sighed. "I suppose that I can't talk you out of this?"

He shook his head. "Sorry."

She waved his apology away. "I'll live with it. Just… be discreet, will you?"

He nodded. "I promise," he said.

"Then I suppose I'll live." She yawned. When she'd finished, she added, "I think I'm going to turn in. See you boys in the morning."

They nodded, and she made her way to the girl's dormitory. She climbed the stairs and went into the room that she'd lived in for the last five years. She passed through the door and rummaged through her trunk, coming up with her pajamas and cosmetics. After quickly readying herself for bed, she delved back into the trunk and came up with a book. Checking the title to see what she'd grabbed, she grinned and settled into the magical world of J. R. R. Tolkein.

Author's note: Yes, I know my poetry sucks. I write stories, not epics. Sorry.