A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay. Exam phase (do you say that?) is over now. I still have to write to rather lengthy papers, so I don't know whether the next chapter will come in time. I do however hope so.

Thanks, Scarlet Hibiscus, for the pointer... I absolutely missed that.

And thank you very much for your review, Anon. I'm sorry for the typos, but I hope you'll stick to the story (and I hope I'll get better with time – or maybe find a Beta). I decided for this story (also based on the canon) that Lucius would be more of a self-centered, narcissistic materialist, than an actual idealist (pureblode supremecy). I had more freedom to shape Rodolphus the way I liked him. I actually wanted to make him sympathetic, while I also didn't want to excuse what he did (or will do). I really hope I can succeed, but while he will suffer, and maybe his later crimes come as a result oh his own suffering, they don't excuse his actions.

But I think instead of explaining to much in the Author's Note (though I love answering Reviews and adding some thoughts to my characters that won't necessarily be mentioned in the story) I should really stop now. Have fun with the next chapter! And yeah... it's rather long again.

"Mudblood"

Midst of September 1966

"Concentrate!" warned the teacher with the tight knotted, dark bun. Professor McGonagall flourished her wand, lips pressed into a tight line, transfiguring the cup in front of her. Then she again started her tour around the class. She looked over Abbott's shoulders. "You don't need to clutch your wand like a broomstick", she explained to the Hufflepuff.

Rodolphus made a weird noise somewhere between a giggle and a yawn, before focussing on his own cup again. It was their second week at Hogwarts and their third lesson in transfiguration – and he'd already known after the very first lesson that this subject was more difficult than the other. He was good in potions, already knew some of the handy little tricks they learned in charms from his dad's teachings, and it turned out he was surprisingly good in herbology. While he wasn't a particularly good flyer, it was just like walking. He wasn't very fast with his feet either, so he reckoned he just wasn't athletic enough to actually get onto the Quidditch team but he knew the technique. However, he wasn't quite as good in astronomy and transfiguration. Astronomy maybe mostly because he didn't really have a connection to the stars – but transfiguration was just complicated.

His formerly green and blue spotted cup was now at least looking like a vase. It should turn into a teapot, though. He'd hexed the handle away without putting much thought into it, only to realize that a teapot needed a handle just as much as a cup. And he didn't quite know how to get the handle back.

He glanced around. He was not the worst but surely not the best either. Diana Walker-Frei and Janis Johanson from Slytherin were almost finished. However, most of the students seemed rather clueless. A third of the class hadn't managed to transfigure the initial cup at all or even worse, turned it into something completely differently. Even Malfoy, who hadn't had any problems in any of the subjects so far, was fighting with the task. His grey eyes repeatedly turned to Janis nearly finished work, looking rather jealous. Still, his 'teapot' looked closer to an actual teapot than Rodolphus'.

"I could be willing", McGonagall started, "to give five points to the first three students, who present me with a complete teapot."

One of the Hufflepuffs in the father back with freckles all over his face suddenly jumped from his seat waving his teapot, as if he'd only waited for something like that.

"I'm finished", proclaimed Martinius Ivory. He got his five points then, as did Janis, who was the next to finish his work.

Displeased, Lestrange focused on his own pot again. He wouldn't get any points for his house, that much was clear, but maybe he could at least figure out how to get the handle back before the class was over.

The red haired Slytherin next to him impatiently moved his cup from one side to the other. But regardless of how much Tarquin moved his cup through the classroom it didn't look any different from before. Tarquin was obviously frustrated. He tapped the tip of his wand against the porcelain, making it suddenly jump over the table and throw itself and Rodolphus' cup to the ground.

Diana's exclamation that she had finished was drowned by the sound of the two shattering cups. Aris laughed. Rodolphus cursed. He'd spent so much energy on his cup and had just managed to rebuild the handle, and now it was broken. He could always undo the damage with a 'Repairo', but still... he scowled at Tarquin.

McGonagall neared and swiftly repaired the cups. Then she gave five points to Slytherin for Diana's work, only to take 10 away for Tarquin's failure. The whole Slytherin bunch scowled at Tarquin.

When the bell rang, the Hufflepuffs had five more house points, while the Slytherins with Janis' and Diana's five each and Tarquins loss of 10 finished where they'd started. Rod's pot was oddly shaped, Malfoy and some others had finished their work, and Tarquin was still not any closer to transfiguring his cup.

"Well, what was there to expect," the Malfoy grumbled on his way out, scowling at his red haired housemate. Tarquin suddenly overreacted, grabbing his cup and throwing it at the back of Malfoy's head, fortunately only brushing the latter. Bewildered, Rodolphus stared at the shattered pot. Malfoy whirled around and had Janis not grabbed him Rodolphus was sure he would have attacked with bared teeth. Following a sudden intuition, Rodolphus grabbed onto Tarquin's shoulder.

"Mr. McTavish, Mr. Malfoy", growled McGonagall from behind them. "What do you think, you're doing to behave like that in my classroom. Mr. Malfoy, you will leave immediately!" Malfoy's hateful gaze first brushed Rodolphus, then focused on Tarquin before he got dragged out by Janis. They could hear the mocking laugh of Logan Abbott outside but then the door fell shut from a wink of the professor's wand. McGonagall turned to them.

"Mr. McTavish, twenty more points from Slytherin. How dare you attack another student?" she indignantly shook her head. "Should I ever see something like that again, this will have more severe consequences."

"He provoked me!" Tarquin argued with gritted teeth. McGonagall frowned a moment.

"Good Lord...," she murmured. "This term hasn't even really started yet and you already feel such hate towards your fellow students?"

Rodolphus felt uncomfortable. He didn't want to be here. Actually, he had planned to get something to eat before the flying lesson would start. He didn't really have any interest in this conflict between Malfoy and Tarquin. He didn't want to take sides. After all, he reckoned, Tarquin was just as responsible as was Malfoy.

"...always thinks he's better than us normal people, just because he's a Malfoy," Tarquin's voice brought him back to the present. "Just because he's pureblood and his father has money to burn." McGonagalls gaze lingered on Rodolphus for a moment.

"I understand," she interrupted, "I will inform your head teacher about..."

"But Slughorn is his uncle," Tarquin whined, "or great uncle, something like that..."

McGonagall's eyebrows formed a displeased frown. "Professor Slughorn," she corrected, "is an experienced and competent teacher. I am sure he'll be able to differ between his duties to his job and to his family. After all, it also is in the interest of young Mr. Malfoy to settle this dispute.

What do you think about it, Mr. Lestrange?" Suddenly she addressed him.

For a moment he was startled. Uncertain what to say, he looked at Tarquin. Malfoy was rather obnoxious, he guessed, but Tarquin always overreacted and made it even worse with his stupid pranks. Tarquin was just as much to blame for all of this. Aside from that, Tarquin was a halfblood and Rodolphus couldn't really side with the halfblood, could he?

"Malfoy...," he started murmuring, "Malfoy has the Slytherins at his back," he tried to evade the actual question. That was maybe the main reason Tarquin hated him so much. At the beginning, Malfoy was just arrogant and a little too cocky, but he hadn't really done anything so far. Tarquin had chosen him as the victim of his pranks because he didn't like him. Malfoy, however, was too proud and too confident to just play the victim so he answered with snide remarks and ridiculing comments. And that would have been just fine and made for a normal everyday rivalry between students if Malfoy weren't Malfoy and – without even actively doing anything – had all of Slytherin at his back. So even though he doubted Malfoy had actually demanded his friends to bully or hate Tarquin, they just followed his lead. Thus he was left alone with no friends and nobody who really cared for him. Rodolphus understood what had made Tarquin attack Malfoy. He felt as if the other boy was looking down on him too, even though he knew that this wasn't specifically about him, but just the way Malfoy generally carried himself. So he could relate to Tarquin's situation.

Professor McGonagall sighed audibly. "I'll talk to Professor Slughorn. It seems as if this really is a problem you should try to solve within your house. As I said, I'll have an eye on Mr. Malfoy but still, Mr. McTavish, should I hear of another incident like this, I'll personally make sure you won't have a single free weekend until Christmas."

Tarquin nodded and McGonagall dismissed them into their shortened lunch break.

Outside they were greeted by Ann Carsten, a girl with brown corkscrew locks. Slytherin and halfblood like Tarquin. Rodolphus always felt annoyed by her and her unpleasant habit of making fun of others to fuel her own lacking confidence. Rodolphus felt wrong in this company of halfbloods anyway, so he excused himself.

Upset and agitated due to his lost lunch break, he made his way to the Hogwarts grounds. Flying lessons... He felt quite excited like always but flying on an empty stomach was only half the fun.

He rashly ran into someone's back. The other boy was clad in the red and gold of Gryffindor and took a step forward to steady himself, before angrily turning around to face the Lestrange. He had bright green eyes and a shock of darkish brown, wild hair.

"Careful, Lestrange," he groaned, when he recognized the Slytherin. "Why in such a hurry? Afraid we might fly away without you?" joked the boy. Someone else laughed. It wasn't really meant spitefully, he knew, but Rodolphus didn't really care if it was. He was too hungry and too upset and still a little startled from the collision to think about what he was doing. A sudden wave of disgust came over him as he realized that the mudblood had just made fun of him. As if they were equal, as if he maybe even stood above him.

"Shut up, Mudblood! And get out of my way!" Rodolphus demanded without thinking about it. In his parent's house, 'Mudblood' was just a word. Sure it was meant as an insult but Mudbloods were Mudbloods, that was just a fact. That was just the word they used at home. He used it regularly, just like his brother. Nobody ever said 'muggleborn' in his home.

Jonathan Fletcher frowned at him. Sure, Rodolphus thought still shocked he had actually used that word at Hogwarts, Fletcher was a Mudblood and only knew about this world for a few weeks. He probably never heard that word before. It did sound offending but he wouldn't know what it meant. His two friends behind his back, however, knew very well. Suddenly Rod found himself in the wet grass on the ground. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were no Mudbloods and they knew exactly what he'd just said. Now they flanked their Mudblood friend on both sides, staring down on Rodolphus.

"What did you just say", one of them – Merlin alone knew which one – hissed. Rodolphus didn't answer but tried to get up again. He was furious that they dared to attack him like that. Suddenly, there was the tip of a wand at his ribs. Anxious, but most of all wroth, he looked up at them. But what should he do? Both of the twins had their wands out. Plus, physically he was smaller and weaker than either of them.

"You think you are better than anyone else, right, Lestrange?" one of them sneered. "Thanks to punks like yourself, one nowadays has to feel ashamed to be pureblood."

The other twin pointed his wand at the ground next to Rod. Suddenly earth and grass welled up and splashed in his face and over his robes. More on reflex than on purpose he closed his eyes and turned his face away; still, he couldn't prevent the dirt getting between his lips and in his nostrils.

When the charm ebbed away, he was boiling with hot fury but still couldn't come up with a way to defend himself. The Mudblood Fletcher furrowed his brows and eventually asked one of the twins, "What's going on?" Stupid clueless Mudblood didn't know anything! He didn't care how deeply he just lost himself in his father's ideology. He'd never felt so furious. Furious that he, a pureblood from the honorable house of Lestrange, heir to one of the oldest families and a Slytherin, would lie in the dirt in front of a lowlife Mudblood, in front of those infamous blood traitors and above all – Gryffindors. He was even more irate with himself that he couldn't muster the courage to fight back, and that his head was empty aside from insults so that he couldn't come up with a way to defend his pride.

"Our dear Mr. Lestrange...", one of the twins spat.

"... thinks, he's better than everyone else, just because his family has engaged in incestuous relationships for centuries," finished the other. And that was it. Rodolphus furiously pushed away from the ground and jumped at the twin who had just offended his family. Adrenaline and wrath rushed through his veins, but even these two things couldn't make him physically superior to them. Fletcher and the twin he was just about to attack grabbed his shoulders and threw him head first back into the dirt.

"Can't take the truth?" one of them grumbled.

Rodolphus spat a bit of earth and turned back to the Gryffindors.

"You can't do anything to me, you damned blood traitors!" he hissed and got another fistful of mud in the face for that. "Fraternizing with dirty Mudbloods instead of holding to your own." He tried to sneer, which was rather difficult when Fletcher pushed him back to the ground with his foot. "Traitors like you are worse than the Muggle vermin!" he screamed his father's words.

"Who is it we have betrayed?" one of the Prewetts laughed.

They laughed at him. For a moment, he was glad he was facing the dirt so they couldn't see how close he was to tears.

"You shouldn't just run around parroting daddy's stupidity," one of the twins chastised.

"Everyone knows your father is a racist asshole and a criminal on top of that," the other added. Fletcher kept silent. Obviously, the stupid Mudblood didn't know enough about their world to add anything to that. Rodolphus tried not to say anything either. They'd see sooner or later. His father would kill them, he knew. They'd see what they got for humiliating him. He gritted his teeth to keep from telling them in straight in their faces.

"What...? How dare you!", Malfoy's voice rumbled in their direction. When he turned his head, Rodolphus could see the blonde approach with a face white from fury, wand raised. Aris and Janis were at his back, holding their wands as well.

The Prewetts seemed startled, then impressed before uncertainly looking at each other. Surely the hat wouldn't have placed them into Gryffindor couldn't they rival a few craven Slytherins. To back down now would be against their Gryffindor pride. At least Rodolphus thought that this was what they were thinking because they didn't back away.

"Malfoy," groaned one of the Prewetts and pointed his wand at Malfoy. "Want a thrashing, too?"

Malfoy didn't attack. He stopped two steps away from Rodolphus and the others. For a moment, his gaze drifted to the Lestrange.

"Don't let yourself get pushed around by those primitives," demanded the Malfoy boy with an angry scowl on his face.

"Primitives, Malfoy?" Fletcher repeated with a voice dark from ire.

"Exactly, Fletcher," Malfoy sneered and pointed his wand at him. "What is this? A new Gryffindorish pastime, to team up three against one?"

"He called him 'Mudblood'!" one of the Prewett's argued.

"Poor Fletcher," he hissed, "he won't get far in this world, if he always needs two pureblood watchdogs to defend him, every time, someone jokes about his heritage."

"Watchdogs? You're one to talk. Running around with your army of craven Slytherins at your back."

Malfoy stared at him intently, then flashed his typical smile. Like a snake before the attack, Rodolphus thought absently.

"Well, firstly, I'm not attacking fellow students," he sneered, "and secondly, I don't claim to be overly courageous or chivalrous."

"Right," Fletcher spat, "you Slytherins don't care for courage. Cowards, all of you, that much I've learned. The house of the murderers and criminals."

Malfoy's gaze darkened. "Right," he hissed dangerously low, "and you, in particular, should be more careful. A well-intended advise from one Hogwarts student to another." He turned to Rodolphus. "Oh, stand up already and get over here!"

Rodolphus stood up and stumbled to Malfoy. Looking back at the Gryffindor, he noticed the way they were scowling at Malfoy. Maybe they now thought Malfoy was the root of everything evil in their Slytherin year, not the Lestrange.

Suddenly, all of the Slytherins put away their wands. Within a split second they raised their arms in silent surrender and put up a shocked face. The Gryffindors exchanged a startled look. And just seconds too late, they understood their scheme.

"What's going on here?" a tall man who was already well past his best years in old Quidditch attire demanded to know. Shocked, the Gryffindors whirled around, wands still in hands. The flying teacher's gaze turned from the Gryffindors to the Slytherins back to the Gryffindors, lastly to Rodolphus' dirty face and uniform.

"What do you think you're doing?", he demanded again, though he had apparently already come to a conclusion.

"A misunderstanding, I fear," Malfoy said somberly, letting his hands fall. "I found Rodolphus at the ground, and when I wanted to help him to his feet, Fletcher and the twins came." His eyes flashed in the Gryffindor's direction, an expression of confusion and wonder on his face. Then he drew his wand and cast a cleaning charm over Rodolphus as if he'd been waiting to do this for quite a while already.

The Gryffindors blinked startled. Most likely the expected Malfoy to rat them out. They weren't exactly completely out of trouble but had he told how the Prewetts and Fletcher had treated Rodolphus, it would have been worse. He'd lured them into a trap, had the stage prepared to make them look like the bad guys, and now he was just giving it away. What was he playing at?

For a moment, they seemed inclined to just tell what had really happened, just to not follow his plan. But when the teacher said, "well I suppose, that's the best explanation I'm going to get", they didn't add anything. "Let's see. Thirty Points from Gryffindor for threatening to use your wands against fellow students. Since you apparently don't want to give me a better reason why you did it," he paused shortly waiting for a late explanation, but none came. Then he turned to Rodolphus. "Mr. Lestrange, are you okay? Any injuries?"

"No, sir," he answered after mentally assessing his physical state.

"Well then," in the meantime, the other students had arrived, "I think we can start with the classes. Would you be so kind to get the brooms, Mr. Lestrange? Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Mason and Mr. Johanson, would you please help him?"

When the four of them entered the barn where the brooms were stored, Malfoy scowled at him. Suddenly, Malfoy jerked Rodolphus back into the barn and pushed the smaller boy against a wall. Rodolphus let go of the brooms he was holding.

"Really?" Malfoy snarled at him. "Only two weeks, and you already have to scream 'Mudblood' through the castle?"

"Why do you care?" Rodolphus hissed back. If anyone thought he was a racist, that surely wasn't Malfoy's problem. Anyway, everyone already knew about his ideologies, so what was it worth to pretend. He was a Lestrange, everyone expected him to behave that way. Was that what McGonagall was thinking when she looked at him in this odd way, back in the transfiguration classroom? Since he was, who he was, surely she expected him to side with the Malfoy over the halfblood. He felt furious at her for judging him so easily. She was right – all of them were, but he was still his own person, wasn't he?

Malfoy seemed to be irritated by his question. For a moment he seemed to search for a response, but of course, there was none. There was no logical reason, why he should care, about how Rodolphus was perceived. "You idiot," he finally groaned, "I only want to help you. Or do you want to make your life more difficult than it has to be?"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" He tried to push Malfoy away.

"You don't get it... Behave, and you'll find many friends here, many connections, and people that will help you and be useful to you at some time. To you... not to your father. Be an asshole and you'll soil every chance for a friendship you can get... with your peers, your teachers, with Dumbledore, even with the Slytherins, because you don't want to submit to anyone, and nobody wants to follow someone, who...," his voice trailed off.

"Who... what?" Rodolphus snapped, but Malfoy didn't really seem willing to answer.

After a while, he bit his lip and said shrugging: "Who doesn't know what he wants... Oh, whatever... But there's a reason why you still don't have any friends and the only one who prefers following you over following me isn't good enough for you, because your father wouldn't approve of him."

Rodolphus struggled for words for a moment. They only were at the school for about two weeks. It wasn't exactly abnormal that he didn't have any friends yet. He'd never bonded easily. But to hear it straight from Malfoy still hurt. Rod didn't need friends, anyway. He went his own way that was predetermined for him, why should he get involved with other people, who might just dissuade him from his path?

"Even if...," he murmured.

Malfoy sighed. "When you finish school without friends, all alone with yourself, you won't have any choice but to do what your father wants from you. Because you won't have anyone who'll give you the possibility to start something new. I told you, I'm searching for friends and connections, who have the potential to strengthen my family... But, most of all, they'll strengthen me. I'll have to take over my father's connections second hand – but I'll rather trust those I chose myself."

Rodolphus stared at his peer. What he just said was... He couldn't mean that!

"You really want to tell me you plan to rebel against against your father?" he whispered with a bit of admiration in his voice. Another thought occurred to him. "You... I mean, you do approve of the pureblood ideology, right? Mudbloods are lower, Blood traitors are a disgrace. Halfbreeds are..." It was impossible... Abraxas Malfoy was no Death Eater, as far as he knew, but he was an integral part of the pureblood community. There was no way... The Malfoys were one of the most ancient, richest and most influential families in England. There was no other family, he could think of that had managed to survive the upsurge of halfblood and mudblood families and individuals as well as the Malfoy family. His family – Even the Lestrange's treasures were nothing compared to the Malfoy's. It was simply impossible, that they were... Blood traitors.

Malfoy's typical sneer crawl over his face, but the other boy quickly turned serene again.

"Of course, I believe in it. But I won't miss any advantages I could get, just to tell every idiot on this planet where my allegiances truly lie. If telling someone you're a pureblood supremest makes them distrust you, don't tell them. About my father... no, I don't plan to rebel against him. Why should I? We're mostly on the same page as far as our opinions, ideologies and ambitions are concerned. Honestly, most of what I just told you, my father taught me before." Rodophus scrutinized him for the first time. Of course... he as well was just an eleven-year-old boy. In the end, Malfoy might seem bright and clever and incredibly mature but he was just following his father's lectures, too. The Lestrange sneered.

"So what? You do everything Daddy says, but when I do the same, you want to stop me?" he scoffed derisively. Malfoy let him go, his grey eyes boring in Rod's dark ones.

"Well, I'm not afraid of my father. I have no problem with following his path. And the hat didn't hesitate before it sent me to Slytherin."

Rodolphus blushed. So that was where he was coming from.

"You said it didn't matter," he tried to defend himself.

"And it doesn't. Not for me, and for nobody else – it certainly shouldn't for your father. Nobody's born a Slytherin. You only turn into one when the hat says so. You're just as much Slytherin as anybody else. But still... it says something about you."

Rodolphus was starting to get a headache. Surely their teacher would be getting impatient soon, he thought absently.

"For most of the students, the hat took a while. Even if you didn't realize it, because your decision seemed to be rather long to you, there were many students, where it took even longer. Especially for halfbloods and muggleborn." Rodolphus hated the sneer on Malfoy's face. Did he just compare him to mudbloods? "I've read a lot about the hat prior to coming to Hogwarts. And my father told me stories. I think the truth is that the hat doesn't decide anything. We choose where we want to go to. He just guides us in our decision. He searches for our strengths and weaknesses, gives us advises and then sends us to wherever we want to go. I've never heard of the hat sending a student somewhere he doesn't want to be. Regardless of whether or not we regret our decision afterwards."

Slowly, Rodolphus began to understand what Malfoy meant.

"I wasn't sure...," he murmured realisation.

"Most of the student just wait for what's coming for them. Many don't even know about the hat or the houses. Some students, when they first come to Hogwarts don't know whether they really belong here. They fear they'll fail whatever test they have to undergo and will be sent home. So it's only natural that they just take the first house the hat suggests, happy they get a house at all. Others hear stories about the houses and feel that they strongly belong in one, or wouldn't like to go in another. And some just want to follow their friends they met at platform 9 ¾ or on the journey. But for us purebloods..."

"We know the houses," Rodolphus cut in, "we know about their virtues and what they stand for. We know where our ancestors and parents went to."

"Exactly. A Malfoy like myself, who honors his parents and agrees with them in most departments, who not only wants to make them proud but who actually actively wants to follow in their footsteps, who upholds most of his family's virtues and those of House Slytherin, will sit in that chair, fairly sure, he belongs to nowhere but Slytherin. The hat doesn't need to ask me what I want or tell me what my strengths or weaknesses are because nothing he would say would change my mind that I belong in Slytherin. A...," Malfoy's face distorted in an ugly way, "Weasley," Rodolphus chuckled, knowing about the generation-long feud between the two families, "who feels perfectly fine in his little, cuddly family, who likes turning every Knut three times, who rather starves than steal his neighbor's turnips, who indulges in his own self-righteousness, will know his place is in Gryffindor, where his ancestors were. The virtues might play a role – but really they are general enough. Most of the students you can easily argue to place in three of the four houses. Maybe the hat will restrain from sending you to Ravenclaw because you really are too stupid... but he might just send you to your second favorite house instead. But if you, Rodolphus, really wanted to follow in your father's footsteps when you came to Hogwarts, why didn't you want to go to Slytherin?"

"I wanted Slytherin. That's why I'm here," Rodolphus snapped at him feeling offended.

Malfoy seemed amused. "You are here because you were too craven to chose the other house. Don't take me for a fool." Had Rodolphus still held one of the brooms, he'd whack it over Malfoy's head. What did he want? Hadn't he always emphasized, how Rodolphus, in fact, was a Slytherin? And now he said, he should have rather chosen the other house... Hufflepuff... Hufflepuff of all the houses. If Lucius only knew... Malfoy smiled oddly. "But hey, according to half of the students and staff of Hogwarts and the whole wizarding society, cowardice is among our attributes. So don't take this the wrong way."

"So...," Rodolphus scowled

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Mason's voice boomed from the door. "I thought you'd follow just after us. Problems with the brooms?"

Malfoy turned to the brawny pureblood. "Since you're already here, you can take some more," he demanded, pointing at the brooms Rodolphus had dropped. Aris grumbled but took four of them, tucked them under his arms and left.

"So, no unnecessary 'Mudblood'-insults anymore, understood?" hissed Lucius, grabbing some brooms of his own.

Rodolphus took the last ones. "You still didn't tell me why you cared. And why did you help me, anyway? We're still no friends."

Malfoy shrugged, following Aris. The class looked in their direction blatantly impatient. "I don't know," he groaned, "but didn't I say you're a Slytherin? So don't let them push you around. It doesn't matter what we think of each other, out there against the other houses, we need to have our backs. We're Slytherins. We stick together."