Draco was sure he had never been more humiliated in his entire life, but he was trying hard not to act like it. As a matter of fact, Draco couldn't remember ever being embarrassed at all, not really. Scared, sure, but nothing like the embarrassment he felt at this moment.
"Well, that went just as terribly as I thought it would," remarked Pansy, breaking the silence that had accompanied them all the way back to the second to last compartment.
Draco wasn't sure what was wrong with him. Sometimes it seemed like his mouth and brain weren't actually connected to one another.
He grunted instead of answering her.
"What happened exactly?" Pansy turned to Crabbe and Goyle who had already resumed their task of eating all of the candy in sight.
"Draco was clearly perfect," Crabbe said offhandedly.
"Yeah," Goyle agreed in a tone that left no room for nonsense, yet still sounded ridiculous coming out of his chocolate covered lips. "It's not his fault Potter likes redheads."
"True," Crabbe said. "That redhaired boy is dead meat for letting his nasty little rat bite us, anyway."
Goyle managed to look thoughtful. "I should throw that thing in the fireplace-"
"Shut up about that weasel already!" Draco nearly shouted, only confirming to himself that his brain had no control whatsoever over the words coming out of his mouth.
"So Potter turned you down flat right, then," Pansy said more than asked. "I couldn't really hear what he had to say but I sure heard you making a right fool of yourself. You sounded like my father on a rant about blood pride in there, and I'm pretty sure he hates Potter, so . . ."
Pansy trailed off and held up her hands in surrender under Draco's sneer.
"I thought you were going to like . . . lie . . . impress him or something?" Pansy tried again. "You said you'd even charm whoever was with him? But you flat right told Weasley to his face that his family is a bunch of broke sods who are only good for one thing: the magical population."
Draco sighed.
"Not that it isn't the truth, but . . . what happened?"
"I was . . . surprised," admitted Draco, "I was under the impression I had never met Potter before. And I wasn't expecting it to be another pureblood with him. Ugh, Weasley! I figured these two knew all of them by now, but I forgot there were a few purebloods who don't reside within our families' social circles."
"Wait - rewind, you have met Potter?" Pansy asked, clearly excited.
Draco nodded.
"Now who's keeping their big mouth shut? Spill, you!" Draco proceeded to tell her about his trip to Madam Malkin's in which he met a little boy with glasses who had clearly hated his guts. After recalling the tale, Draco distinctly remembered being embarrassed that time as well.
"How did you know he hated you? Were you mean to him?" Pansy asked.
"No!" Draco protested. "He ignored me! Everytime I tried to talk to him he looked at me like I was stupid! So obviously I kept trying to sound smarter. Well, I see now it's because he was probably too slow to even understand me. I mean honestly, sitting with a Weasley? No! Siding himself with a Weasley, is what he did. Who in their right mind would do that to themselves?"
"Maybe you just didn't have anything in common," said Pansy, her tone irritatingly reasonable. "He's a halfblood after all and you're as pure as they come. I mean, I've been to your gatherings, Draco, and you still use one of those virgin goblet thingys. I'm pretty sure those weren't even legal when the wizard who designed them was alive."
"It isn't like I just walked up to him and started quoting Salazar, Pansy!" protested Draco. "You can't tell me Harry Potter doesn't have a favorite quidditch team! No. No. Potter just thinks he's too good for the likes of me. Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"
Pansy quickly opened her mouth and shut it again a few times. "I like you," Pansy decided at last, and Draco felt better for the rest of their ride until she suggested stepping into an empty cart to change her robes for the school ones.
"Yes," said Draco, they were all moving to grab them out of their carry ons and Draco should pull his out, too, only he had just remembered what he'd forgotten: to put on clothes underneath his robes. "Pansy," Draco said as she moved toward the exit. "Why are you leaving to change?"
"I don't wear clothes underneath my robes and I don't really fancy all you boys peeping at my knickers."
"I don't wear clothes under my robes either," spat Draco. Pansy gave him an odd look that Draco was too nervous to be annoyed by and opened her mouth but Goyle beat her to it.
"We'll be sharing showers soon, Draco," the boy said.
"Yeah," Crabbe agreed. "Hardly matters to us."
Draco couldn't keep the horror from his face. How had he not realized that he would have to be naked around Goyle and Crabbe? The last thing Draco wanted was for any of the Slytherin boys to be seeing him naked, but the other two spoke like it was unavoidable. Draco didn't understand how he could have overlooked such a huge detail. Perhaps he should have taken up his mother's last offer of schooling Draco from home with the finest tutors-
"Come with me then, Draco," said Pansy, her words breaking into his head like running water.
The other boys seemed to protest but Draco paid them no heed. Changing in front of Pansy seemed much better than the other two. They shuffled into a nearby compartment and once he was sure Pansy was truly busy changing like she said, Draco went about pulling his own uniform robes out and switching them as quickly as possible. Pansy was still done before him and Draco felt himself go hot as she watched him while performing her wrinkle-free charm. Once finished, Draco didn't much feel he had the concentration for magic but mumbled the charm anyway and hid his surprise as all his wrinkles flattened themselves out.
By the time the Sorting feast came around, Draco was in a decent mood again. He certainly hadn't forgot about Harry Potter, but nothing else had gone wrong and he really had no reason to be upset. Even more so when the Sorting Hat called out Slytherin for himself, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy.
Pasny mingled with the few first year girls at their table while Draco sat with Goyle and Crabbe on either side of him and began to pick at some food once it was served. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, two other Slytherin first year boys, sat across from Draco once they'd been sorted and proceeded to try and start a conversation.
"So . . . Draco, right? Draco Malfoy?" questioned Zabini.
Draco nodded. "Yes, and you're Zabini and he's Nott." Draco gestured at Nott then Goyle and Crabbe. "And they're Goyle and Crabbe."
Zabini took a sheepish bite of mashed potatoes.
"Do you actually know our first names?" Nott asked Draco, but he didn't sound as nasty as Draco remembered, just bored. "Or are we not good enough for that kind of thing?"
Draco pretended to think about it for a moment. "No," he drawled at last. "I do know them."
Nott snorted classlessly. "You're just above using them then."
Draco just smirked at Nott, then spoke to Zabini. "In fact, Blaise Zabini, I was actually just talking about you."
"Oh Merlin," Zabini said. "The worm thing?"
"Among others," Draco muttered as he leaned forward and caught Pansy's eye from down the table.
"Oh no," Zabini remarked. "You haven't befriended Parkison, have you?"
"Hmm," Draco hummed. "Pans and I go way back if you must know."
"Pans?" Zabini squeaked.
"Why is that such a hard name for one to grasp?"
After that, Draco's evening was pretty much uneventful. He met a decent ghost named the Bloody Baron. The dead wizard may have been a bit gruesome, but no more than Old Wizard Malfoy on a good day so Draco found it easy to make nice with him. Though he had a feeling he wouldn't be calling for the ghost in any dark hallways at night.
Soon Draco was being escorted by Snape-his head of house, Draco still couldn't believe how lucky he was-back to the Slytherin dungeons. He was dormed with Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini. Fortunately, Nott was in the dorm across the hall. Draco quickly took to the corner nook of the room. No doubt it would be the coldest spot and Draco would have to do something as soon as possible about the horrid window that only showed the bottom of a muggy lake, but he needed as much privacy as he could get and the ratty old bed curtains would not do it.
"Anyone else opposed to blocking off this awful window?" Draco asked the room at large.
Nope was the unanimous answer.
"Good. I'll sleep here then. Take whichever beds you like and I'll move the remaining one into the nook. Fair enough?"
"Sounds good, Draco," Crabbe said and Goyle nodded, but Zabini just shrugged and took the bed closest to the bathroom.
Once they all had their beds Draco strode over to the remaining one and ripped the bed curtains down and off of it. They looked even more horrid by the time he was done but that was no matter, Draco could have Linky spell them straight again as soon as he got some bloody privacy.
He took the curtains to the nook and proceeded to rip them once more down the middle. He then had to stop to look up a sticking charm, and hoped his pathetic attempt would work at least until he called Linky out to fix the curtains. He didn't bother with the window yet, just stuck half of the ripped cloth to each wall to close off the nook completely. He called Linky out as quietly as he could and grabbed her wrist while holding his pointer finger to his lips in indication for her to be silent.
She nodded and Draco smiled, then gestured for Linky to ward the curtain by pointing at it and tracing the perimeter. Linky snapped her fingers and Draco let out the breath he'd been holding. "So it's warded against sound and entry, right?" Draco whispered.
She nodded. "Okay," Draco said louder, he trusted Linky with much more important and difficult tasks than protecting his privacy. She would do that without having to be told, blindfolded, and with her hands tied behind her back if she had to. "Spell this curtain to stay up no matter what and then transfigure it to open somehow, too-but only for me, and you can pop in, okay? That's it."
She nodded again and snapped her fingers once more. The curtain suddenly looked much sturdier and had a closed slit down the middle.
Draco thanked her and set about giving his other orders while Linky went about snapping her fingers. Draco wasn't sure what his dorm mates were thinking about all the random magic, but Draco hoped they least suspected Linky's involvement. He had Linky move the last bed against the wall and spell up the other side of the curtain to cover the window. Then they set about readying Draco's wardrobe and Linky's keeper. When it was all over Draco had very, very little room-like four by one foot space of pacing ground-but he could work with that. His tiny personal chambers all hidden in . . . green.
Draco abruptly demanded that Linky spell the curtains a deep grey, a color every bit as suitable as black but less unforgiving in the darkness of night. Draco hadn't a clue how his mother lived within the heart of the west wing were the all black rooms were. Even Draco's father stayed in the north wing, that was where all the green rooms were.
Draco had been thinking he would have to stack things until he could concentrate enough to properly shrink them himself, but with Linky there she shrank everything he didn't need effortlessly. He grew curious as she shrank his trunk. Would he be able to do it? he wondered over the matter for a bit. Draco remembered the sparks from his wand, the wrinkle, and (albeit horrendous) sticking charm he performed earlier. Perhaps he could . . . but now wasn't the time to try, Draco decided.
He left the confines of his new space only once to use the garderobe. He returned back and spelled his teeth clean before telling Linky to sleep in her keeper, and promptly getting under the covers and falling asleep himself.
He woke in the morning to a voice calling out his name. Even after he realized he was awake Draco swore he could hear a voice saying his name, but when Linky appeared it stopped.
"Good morning, master Draco," Linky greeted and Draco grunted out a demand to ready his clothes for the day. School uniform to go underneath and all, Draco remembered to add. Just like with the manor itself, there were very few rules for Draco to follow with the house elves. One rule, however, was that Draco was not to punish an elf for failing to remember something that Draco himself had failed to tell it. A failure such as this should lie upon Draco's own shoulders alone, because hiding one's failure in the light of their own household was most distasteful, and his father would not have a family that went around beating pathetic little creatures like a bunch of drunken muggles - for no reason, that was. Not that Draco was ever going to beat Linky like a drunken muggle, anyway. Though Draco did not think his mother always followed his father's rules, and Linky was technically her elf still, but that was another matter entirely. Draco shook his head to clear it.
Draco no longer had time for this kind of nonsense. How was he ever going to think? he wondered. With his new schedule, Draco felt like he wouldn't have time for a task so brainless as breathing, and he hoped that the sheer amount of spectacular knowledge he was soon to gain would keep his brain from becoming mush, because his own creative thoughts were certainly being neglected already. His clothes sat neatly folded at the end of his bed for five minutes before Draco forced himself out of bed. He had Linky spell him clean before he stepped out of his night clothes and put the new ones on.
"Master Draco be knowing they have showers?" she asked. Draco nodded and yawned, feeling hot and heavy and even a bit itchy with the layers on.
"Perhaps before dinner," he added before spelling his teeth, and asking Linky for a glass of water and a new hair charm.
Zabini and Goyle both seemed to be showering when Draco went to use the garderobe. Draco had to wake Crabbe up when he came back to the dorm and found that the other boy was still passed out. Breakfast was decent, and the house elves seemed to know to bring him water instead of juice. Draco briefly wondered whether Linky had anything to do with this.
Draco was a bit distracted throughout Herbology with the Gryffindors by his guilt over leaving Linky in her keeper all day, although most of the advice in the "Dealing with Gryffindors" chapter of his journal said to ignore them, so Draco didn't have to try too hard to rile up Potter and his housemates, he supposed . . . today, at least. After all, his mother, who was a bit more, er, magical than most, was the only one who had suggested something a little different.
As far as Draco was concerned, Herbology was a class he would pass with his eyes closed, anyway. So what if he spent the whole time wondering what Linky's room truly looked like and how big it was? Draco had learned the day before it was charmed to look bigger inside, but he didn't check it out for himself because it kind of terrified him. What if Draco got stuck? Hopefully, Linky hadn't been exaggerating for Draco's sake, and the keeper was large enough to house her all day long.
Before lunch, Draco ended up stopping by his dorm to check on Linky. Zabini decided to stop by, too, and Goyle and Crabbe followed Draco, but it wasn't a problem since the privacy wards around his little nook held no matter what. Draco confirmed that Linky had a bed and a bath and access to food at all times while in the keeper so far, though she suspected it may limit her at night in ways.
"There is a door that be leading straight to the kitchens. Linky be loving this. Linky be telling the elves in the kitchen what good master she be having," she announced proudly. "They be liking Linky and offering to help her demanding master anytime he be needing."
Draco flushed the tiniest bit.
"Linky be having their names if master Draco is wanting them . . ." Linky continued after a pause. "But Linky is being so sure she will not be needing help-"
"How about Linky keeps their names and remembers them for me. If we ever need any help from more house elves then you can be telling me, but I have no reason for them yet."
"Yes, master Draco." Linky smiled.
"Has Linky been thinking about master Draco getting new elves all morning?"
"Yes," admitted Linky without pause, after all she couldn't lie to her master. It was pointless to try. "Linky be worrying-"
"Draco be worrying over Linky all morning, too, over the state of Linky's keeper, but we both can stop worrying now and be getting on with our days, hm?"
"Yes, master Draco. Be remembering how you is talking, hm?" she shot back just as Goyle called out that lunch was about to start. Draco didn't bother hollering back, he bid Linky a good afternoon and gathered his books for his next classes before heading to lunch with his dorm mates.
Draco sat through a boring History of Magic class and was then biding his fellow Slytherins goodbye as they left for a free period and he went to the library. His Library Study class consisted of himself, sixteen Ravenclaws, and the bushy haired mudblood, Hermione Granger, who was in Gryffindor.
Being the odd two out, Draco ended up partnered with her on their first assignment. He didn't argue, Draco figured even she couldn't mess up on busy work.
Library Study ended up being his best class that day. He and Granger finished their work in half the time he'd expected and the librarian, Madam Pince, let them leave as soon as they turned it in. Draco was back checking on Linky and claiming a chair in the common room before he even had a chance to feel tired.
The next few days went pretty much the same. He had Library Study every other day for an hour, in which he got to research pretty much whatever he wanted, after they'd finally gotten all the basics of the Hogwart's system down, of course. Draco had no problems learning the system, and patiently sat back and waited when Madam Pince started to drone on about it. Malfoy Manor had a library that was just slightly bigger than Hogwarts, after all. Draco suspected one of his ancestors had taken this into account when stocking their library.
Draco quickly learned he didn't much like Transfiguration, but that was mostly because the classroom had a very funny odor that always made Draco feel like he was about to sneeze. Draco's sneezes were very unfortunate sounding, and he absolutley refused to succum to his urges. The Charms professor annoyed him to no end, but at least Draco had actually learned something in his class, which was more than he could say for some of his other classes. Draco had been majorly disappointed by his Astronomy class. Even years of hearing his own mother bad mouth the professor could not have warned him for that amount of terrible.
He woke every morning to the sound of a strange voice calling his name and could never remember what he'd been dreaming about, but the sound would fade as soon as Linky appeared.
Draco finally would have Potions on Friday morning and he couldn't wait.
As soon as Draco was dismissed from his Transfiguration class he headed straight for the common room to claim his chair. He had seen a seventh year girl lounging on it the night before and proceeded to glare at her until she felt uncomfortable enough to move. It wasn't like Draco would ever talk to her anyway.
Draco shut his eyes for a moment, relaxing back into the chair, and suddenly he heard a deep voice calling out his name again - just like this morning, and every morning since he had arrived at Hogwarts. Draco started in surprise, but no-one in the common room had moved or was even looking at him, yet Draco could still hear the voice calling to him. He could almost feel it pulling him toward it.
Draco thought for a moment, but in the end the unrelenting insistence of the voice won out over Draco's wariness. Draco followed the call. The voice led him to a far corner of the castle, until Draco found himself faced with a locked door. Draco stepped in an alcove and called for Linky. She unlocked the door easily and together they made their way up a long, spiral staircase. Once at the top, they found themselves in a large, and seemingly empty tower, but then Draco looked up and saw a giant dragon looming on the ceiling. He froze. It swooped on to the wall and seemed to be made out of - of the stones of Hogwarts, Draco belatedly realized.
"Young warlock, you have finally deemed to join me," the beast opened with.
Draco gaped.
"Not as cheeky as I'm used to then, I can work with this," the dragon went on.
"How do you know who I am?" Draco asked quickly. "Who trapped you here like this?"
"I know many things and those which I know cannot be helped," the dragon sighed. "And many would have me here in this tower but this castle has held me since it was built."
"Why have you called me here?" asked Draco faintly.
"I have been waiting a long time for you to show up here at Hogwarts, young warlock," the dragon started. "For many years ago it was made that your destiny was to be a great one."
"My destiny."
The dragon nodded.
"Well . . . what is it?" Draco wanted to know, he was already growing nervous in the uncertainty.
"Years ago you were given a gift, young warlock, granted to you for a reason."
"You're kidding . . ." Draco drawled. "What gifts do I have exactly?"
"More than you may ever imagine," the dragon said flatly.
"What? What do you expect me to do?" Draco asked the thing, growing all the more nervous.
"Harry Potter," the dragon said slowly. "He is the one who defeated the dark wizard Voldemort and one day he will save all of Albion again."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Right . . ."
The dragon chuckled. "Harry Potter will face many threats on his journey, from friend and foe alike."
"I don't really see what that has to do with me. . ."
"There's that cheek." The dragon's smile was devilish. "You, young warlock, are the key to everything. Without you, Harry will never succeed."
Draco waited a second before he gave into his urge to have a proper laugh.
"Ah." The dragon looked knowing now. The look sobered Draco until he was properly irritated. "I see history is doomed to repeat itself after all, if you have made enemies with the other boy already . . . that will soon change," the dragon declared.
"You're wrong!" Draco protested.
The dragon sighed. "There is no wrong. Only what is and what isn't."
"I am never going to save Harry Potter, if that's what you're trying to say!" Draco hissed. "I would rather see him hurt! Dead, even!"
The dragon only smiled, all the more knowingly. "I have been around for many ages, seen many things, and encountered many people. I know what I know, young warlock. None of us choose our destinies, and none of us can escape them."
"But Potter is- is- is a fool at best!" Draco protested.
"Perhaps it is you who is destined to change that," the dragon chuckled. "Trust me, at least once very long ago, far more has been accomplished."
The dragon was starting to disappear back into flat stones, Draco blinked after it.