Harry was happy when the weekend was finally over. He had had a ton of fun, with Draco and everyone else, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the snide comments and dirty looks that some of the older Slytherins kept sending his way. He didn't regret asking the hat for Slytherin; he refused to regret it. He belonged here, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that not everyone agreed. His first instinct was to shut his ears to the attacks, and stubbornly keep moving forward. No one knew who he was, or what he wanted. His whole life, no one had bothered to ask, to give him a choice. Being placed in Slytherin felt like the closest thing to a choice he'd ever had.
He had been dropped into the middle of a war that he didn't understand. He didn't understand the differences between muggleborns and purebloods, or how much those differences mattered, or why. He didn't understand if everything was as black and white as everyone talked like it was, or if things were more complicated and messier than anyone on either side wanted to admit.
Did all of You-Know-Who's followers want to murder or enslave all muggles, or did most of them just want their traditions to be left alone? Did all of his parents' side act nobly and just, or did some of them use the brutality of war to cover their own heinous crimes? Harry had heard in primary school that history was written by the victors. His parents' side had won, so it seemed important so listen to the losing side, while they were still alive to speak for themselves.
He was in the perfect place for it. It was no secret that the parents of some of his classmates were sitting in Azkaban, or dead, for following the Dark Lord, and several more were rumored to be followers, who had escaped justice. Harry wondered if Mr. Malfoy was as innocent as he claimed. He wondered if it mattered.
Every war had a losing side. Every war had conscripted soldiers that fought because they had to, and to protect their families and friends. That didn't make them horrible people, just because they lost, right?
The war was like potions, he decided. He knew some of the individual ingredients that had led to it, and some of the results, but he didn't understand the hows and whys. He would need to break everything down, in a similar way. He would need to study the motivations and ideologies, and fears that everyone had had before the war had begun, and how different events had been catalysts for others, and how things got mixed together, and turned into something completely different from what they'd started out as.
To do that, he'd need to do research, and that meant talking to the very people who despised him just for existing. He was not looking forward to that. Most of the quidditch team seemed to like him, alright, maybe he could ask some questions when they were around, to help keep him safe. The last thing he wanted was for someone to decide that Harry Hunting or something like it should become the new Slytherin team sport.
Later, though. Harry had enough on his mind, right now, getting settled into classes, and figuring out his place amongst his classmates. He was lucky that Draco had helped to introduce him to everyone. He had a feeling that most of the Slytherins in his year had accepted him mostly because Draco had. He was half convinced that Vince would have beaten him up by now, if he'd joined the house on his own. And if Vince had started something, Greg would have joined him. Pansy, Theo, and Greengrass would have placed bets, or offered sarcastic commentary. Zabini would have watched with distain. He would have been beaten, and shunned, and alone. Everything would be different, without Draco. Harry wondered if the blond boy realized how much Harry owed him?
Probably not.
Draco was currently dragging Harry to the bulletin board near the common room entrance, where the other first years were talking excitedly. Harry did his best to hide his conflicted worries, and let Draco shoulder through their peers so they could get a good look at what was causing all of the fuss.
The world froze, and the fears that Harry had been wrestling with all weekend slid away.
Flying lessons were officially starting on Thursday!
Harry could barely contain his glee. Flying was just what he needed to distract him from life. He allowed his excitement to fully wash over him, as he grabbed Draco's arm, and jumped around him, forcing the blonde to spin in a circle with him or lose a limb.
"I get it, I get it!" Draco said, laughing. "Flying. Thursday. You're excited. Let me go, or I'm going to be sick!"
"I'm finally get to use a real broom!" Harry said, nearly splitting his face in half with the force of his grin. "It's going to be brilliant! I'm going to go higher than the clouds, just because I can. I'm gonna race you around the pitch. You'll race me, right?!"
"You're on, Potter. You can watch how a real wizard flies, as you try to catch up."
"Not a chance, Malfoy. You'll be picking my dust out from between your teeth for months, after I'm finished with you."
"Ugh, looks like with have lessons with the Gryffindors. They're bound to slow us down," Draco said imperiously.
"I hear they have two mudbloods, plus a full-on half-blood with a muggle for a father," Zabini said, with a dramatic shiver. "They'd better not make us share brooms. I don't know if they make a disinfectant potion strong enough."
"Plus, they've got Longbottom," Pansy said. "Ten galleons says he'll break something by the end of the first class."
"No one's dumb enough to bet against that, Pans," Draco drawled. He looked at Harry worriedly, and Harry was sure he was trying to figure out if he needed to challenge Zabini on his mudblood comment.
Harry shook his head. He didn't want to start a fight, right now. "Plus, they've got Weasley," he added darkly. "He's got it out for Draco and me."
Pansy snorted. "The Weasleys have had it out for the Malfoys for generations. Course the war didn't help, any. Didn't one of your uncles kill the mum-Weasley's brothers, Draco?"
Draco glared at Pansy. "That was just a rumor. Dolohov and his lot were the only ones charged." He turned to Harry, looking uneasy. "My crazy aunt's husband, and his brother. All three of them are in Azkaban now, but they didn't kill the Prewetts, I don't think."
"They did Longbottom's parents, though," Greg said, quietly. "My dad said so."
Draco shuddered. "My parents don't like to talk about that, at least not in front of me. Can we change the subject, please? I have crazy, sadistic, evil relatives in prison. I don't like to dwell."
Harry didn't make a fuss, when the conversation moved to safer subjects, but he did make a mental note to ask Draco about it, later. This was exactly the kind of thing he needed to hear about, if he was going to understand the war.
And he needed to understand the war; he was Harry Potter.
He wished Professor Snape had been able to cast a permanent glamour on him, after all. He wondered what it would be like, if he'd been able to join Hogwarts as an anonymous student, with no famous past, and no expectations. It would have been nice, to be normal.
The morning runs continued. Vince had dragged Greg along, and Millicent had brought Davies. Once Pansy had discovered what was going on, she corralled the rest of the girls into joining, and then Theo and Zabini felt obligated to come along, too. Even Pepper had convinced several more second years into joining.
It really did help Harry to be wide awake and focused by the time classes started, and as an unexpected side bonus, the runners had begun waiting for each other to finish showering and getting dressed, and now walked into the Great Hall for breakfast in a large, energized but organized group.
It was making an impression on the other houses. Everyone paused as the Slytherins walked in together. Everyone looked up to watch them enter the hall and take their seats.
People noticed them.
Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington noticed the effect, and asked Draco why the younger years were sticking so close together. Draco told the quidditch players about the morning runs, and Adrian told Marcus Flint.
By Thursday, the Slytherin quidditch team was joining in on the runs, and Terrence Higgs was spreading word to the other prefects to encourage the whole house to start getting up early for a little exercise.
Harry wondered what the other houses would do the first time the entirely of Slytherin walked in for breakfast as a single, unified group. He was excited to find out.
The Slytherin first years were all waiting down by the quidditch pitch for minutes before the first of the Gryffindors showed up. Harry wondered if the fact that Gryffindor was located in one of the towers had made them late, or if Slytherins were simply more predisposed to being early for important events.
Madam Hooch had everyone line up and summon their brooms from the ground beside them. Harry's broom immediately hit his palm with a satisfying slap. He grinned at Draco, who grinned back.
Harry's excitement was cut short when Pansy's prediction almost immediately came true. Neville Longbottom lost control of his broom and careened high into the air, before slamming himself back down to the ground with a painful sounding crunch. Harry winced in sympathy, and watched with baited breath as Madam Hooch got the chubby boy to his feet, and announced that she would be taking him to the hospital wing.
Movement caught Harry's eye, and he turned to see Draco stooping to pick something up. The blond examined the little round object mischievously, but when he saw Harry watching, he sighed, and simply slipped it into his pocket.
"What was that?" Harry asked, trying to distract himself from having his first chance at real flying delayed. He was antsy, and itching with the temptation to grab his school broom, and launch into the air, consequences be damned.
Draco shrugged. "Longbottom dropped it. Weasley will accuse me of stealing it if I try giving it to one of the Gryffindorks, so I might as well wait, and give it to Longbottom later. Would you want to visit him in the infirmary with me, later?"
"Sure!" Harry agreed easily. He hadn't met Longbottom, yet, but the shy, accident-prone boy seemed nice enough, and it couldn't hurt to make some friendly overtures outside of Slytherin.
"Did you boys notice how much trouble Granger had, getting her broom up?" Pansy asked, with a vicious smile. No one liked the no-it-all girl, but Pansy had taken Granger's superior attitude personally.
Draco snorted. "Serves her right. I overheard some of the Gryffindorks talking earlier, and even they can't stand her."
"It's like she thinks she's the only smart person in the school!" Pansy said, throwing up her hands in exasperation.
Harry poked Pansy's shoulder. "Does that mean you're going to start actually putting effort into your readings and assignments? Can't really claim the high ground if she is getting higher marks than you."
Pansy huffed. "I suppose I might have to. I'm not doing it alone, though! We're still doing study group this Friday, right?"
Harry and Draco nodded. "Yup! It's way better to get homework out of the way early," Harry said.
"Hang on, Harry, help me grab Vince before he loses Slytherin about a thousand points," Draco said. "He's about to kick off with Weasley, and Madam Hooch is bound to be back any second."
They managed to divert Vince's attention before anything came to blows, and Harry was chuckling at Draco's self-righteous lecture at Vince to 'pick his moments' when Madam Hooch returned, and the flying lessons returned.
Harry was enraptured.
Flying with a real broom was way better than a toy one, and his toy broom was awesome! He was careful to follow Madam Hooch's strict instructions while the woman was assessing everyone's abilities, and ensuring that there would be no further injuries, but the moment she gave them leeway, Harry shot off like an arrow, with Draco close behind.
A burst of laughter tore from Harry's lips, as the crisp Scottish air stung his face. This was amazing! He veered and swooped through the air as he sped around the pitch, putting the school broom through its paces, and discovering his new limits. He did a barrel roll, focussing on the tip of his broom to keep from getting dizzy, and then followed with a back loop, and then a front dive.
He got as close to the ground as he dared, before pulling up sharply, as his shadow skimmed the grass mere feet below him, letting out a loud whoop as he sped up once again.
He wished he had a real snitch to chase. He wanted to see how his moves would compare against one that wasn't handicapped to match a seeker's abilities.
Draco dropped from the sky, slapping him hard on the shoulder, before speeding off.
It was on.
Harry chased Draco down, matching his turns and dives, cutting off his angles to close the distance between them. He slapped Draco's back, and flipped over, leaning forward on his broom in a burst of speed to get away.
The game of tag was exhilarating. Harry lost track of everything and everyone else, as he hunted down and evaded Draco in turn. The world was a blur around him, sights and sounds blending together as an insignificant backdrop to the dance of predator and prey.
"BOYS! ENOUGH!" Harry pulled back, and looked over to Madam Hooch, who was red-faced, with her wand pressed against her own throat.
The rest of the class had already put their brooms away, and were standing in a group, waiting to head back to the castle.
Draco and Harry landed sheepishly. Harry had honestly not heard Madam Hooch's whistle, and he doubted Draco had, either. Together, they lost ten points from Slytherin, but neither of them minded. They had had way too much fun.
They returned Longbottom's Remembrall immediately after they returned to the school. The boy was still in a bit of pain, but recovering quickly, and he was grateful to get his property back, although he kept giving Draco wary glances. Draco kept his head held high, and ignored the suspicion with a polite aloofness that Harry would never be able to pull off.
They were just leaving the hospital wing when they ran into Weasley and Finnigan.
Weasley narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What were you two doing in there? Giving Neville a hard time?"
"Hardly," Draco scoffed. "We were just returning something to him. You can ask him, yourself."
"Returning something you stole, no doubt," Weasley sneered.
Draco rolled his eyes, and turned to Harry. "See?"
Weasley stiffened. "See what?"
Harry stepped between the two. "It's nothing, Weasley. Draco found Longbottom's Remembrall, and said he'd be accused of stealing it, if he tried to give it to one of you, so we returned it directly. No harm, no foul."
"Well, he's a little foul," Draco jeered, waving his hand in front of his nose. "When's the last time you showered, Finnigan?"
"Oi, leave Seamus out of this!" Weasley shouted, forcing Harry to stumble back into Draco, as the taller boy took a menacing step forward.
Harry was definitely going to have to have a talk with Draco about his penchant to make things worse.
"You wanna fight me, Weasley?" Draco asked, standing on his toes to yell over Harry's shoulder.
"Any time, any place, Malfoy," Weasley said.
"Oh yeah? Prove it. Wizard's duel. Tonight. Midnight. In the Trophy Room. Who's your second?"
Finnigan raised his hand. "Guess that'd be me, Malfoy. You dragging poor Potter along with you?"
"Harry's not afraid of either of you, are you Harry?"
"Er… no. What's a second?"
"I'll explain later," Draco hissed, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him away. "Tonight at midnight, Weasley. Don't be late!"
Draco waited until they were deep into Slytherin territory in the dungeons before explaining the concept of wizarding duels and seconds to Harry. It sounded exciting, but a little reckless, for Draco.
"We're not really sneaking out of the dorms for an illegal duel after curfew, are we?" Harry asked.
Draco scoffed, and then smirked. "Of course not. Hopefully they will, though, and run into Filch while they're at it. In fact, I might just send him an anonymous tip."
Harry could not help but laugh. Draco was ridiculous, but in the best sort of way.