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Chapter Text

Narcissa snatched up the back of Draco's robes as he maneuvered his cart through the crowd. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of all the muggles and wished for the millionth time there were a method of reaching Hogwarts without passing through the muggle train station.

During her own years at school, the necessity of brushing shoulders with so many muggles had been merely an inconvenience and annoyance, but now, bringing her own son for his first year, the experience was positively frightening. Draco had shot up in height over the past few months, but he was still short enough that a crowd like this could sweep him away and completely obscure him from view within seconds.

Perhaps because of these fears, or perhaps because she kept her gaze at precisely eleven-year-old-boy height, as they passed the ninth platform, another child caught her eye.

He wore what appeared to be ill-fitting muggle attire and poorly-mended glasses, but he pushed a cart like Draco's with a gold cage enclosing a beautiful snowy owl, and stared at the wall between platforms nine and ten as though willing a door to appear. Muggle-born then, but no sign of the parents.

"Draco, stop a moment."

He turned around. "What is it?"

"Come here." She led him to the little dark-haired boy and crouched slightly. "Hello. Are you lost?"

The boy's head shot up, and his eyes widened for a second, then he sank back and watched her warily. "I'm looking for platform 9 3/4, but no one can tell me where it is."

Narcissa smiled and straightened. "My son and I are going that way. Why don't you come with us?" The boy nodded and grabbed his cart, evidently pleased to have finally found help.

"You're the one I saw at Madam Malkin's the other day!" Draco said. Narcissa raised an eyebrow. This was the first she had heard of it. "But you seemed angry. Were you mad at me?"

"No," the boy said in a clipped tone.

"You are mad," Draco said, "and now you're lying about it."

"No, I'm not--I'm not mad, but I did think the stuff you said about Hagrid was rude. He's my friend, and I didn't like the way you were talking about him."

Hagrid . . . wasn't he the groundskeeper? What kind of parents did this boy have that they let him be friends with the groundskeeper?

"Your friend?" Draco asked, clearly thinking along the same lines.

The boy nodded. "He came and got me from my aunt and uncle and told me I'm a wizard, and then he gave my cousin a pig's tail!" He gave Draco a hard look. "So he can do magic, and rather well."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, yes, I suppose he must."

Narcissa held up her hand, and both boys stopped talking to look at her. She pointed to the wall between the two platforms. "The platform is straight through there," she explained. "Just run through, and the train is on the other side."

The new boy's eyes widened. "Run through?"

"Yes. It's perfectly safe. Draco, why don't you go first?"

He did, running straight through the wall and disappearing through it. The other boy let out a choked gasp. "It's alright," Narcissa said gently. "Go ahead."

He swallowed and gripped the cart tighter before running at the wall, disappearing as soon as he reached the bricks. Narcissa stepped through after and found both boys waiting. She laid her hand on the dark-hair boy's shoulder. "What is your name? I can help you look for your family."

"My name is Harry Potter, but my family already left. My aunt and uncle don't want me to be a wizard, but Hagrid didn't really give them much choice, so they left me here."

Harry Potter. That was not what she had been expecting. She noticed now how his messy hair completely covered his forehead--and likely the scar. And his aunt and uncle just left him? He was only eleven for goodness's sake! What did they mean to do if he missed the train?

"We better hurry," Draco said, interrupting her thoughts. "We don't have long before the train leaves."

"Yes, yes, go. Have fun." Narcissa leaned down and kissed his forehead. "You too, Harry." She patted him on the shoulder and gestured for them to leave. They walked together, Draco pausing a moment to wave to her.

She smiled and waved back.

Draco and Harry found an empty compartment, and, though it took quite a bit of maneuvering, managed to get their trunks up the stairs.

"I can't wait to get to Hogwarts," Draco said.

Harry frowned. "Me neither. I can't wait to leave, and learning magic sounds so exciting."

Something Harry had said before struck Draco. "You said you didn't know you were a wizard until the groundskeeper told you?"

"No. My aunt and uncle didn't want me to know. They kept running away, trying to get away from the letters, so finally Hagrid had to come. That was on my birthday."

Draco shook his head. He couldn't imagine being raised by muggles and never knowing he was a wizard. He started to ask if that had been horrible, when the compartment door slid open, and a red-haired boy slipped in.

"Anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full."

Draco sneered, guessing who this was, but Harry spoke up too quickly. "It's free besides us. Sit wherever you like."

Draco frowned, remembering that Harry hadn't grown up as a wizard, so he really had no way of knowing which families were important and which should be avoided as far as possible. Well, Draco would just have to explain it to him later.

"My name's Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Weasley's jaw dropped, and Draco couldn't help but smirk. Likely he wasn't used to meeting a real celebrity. "Harry Potter? Really? Blimey. So you really--wow."

"I don't remember anything, though," Harry said defensively.

"Oh, yeah, I guess not." Weasley shifted uncomfortably. "So what house do you think you'll be in?"

Harry glanced nervously over at Draco. "Um, I don't--"

"Oh, you don't know what the houses are, do you?" Weasley interrupted. "Well, there's Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff--" Draco snorted at that, but the other two ignored him. "--and Slytherin, and Gryffindor.."

Draco raised his chin. "My whole family has been in Slytherin, and I'm sure I'll be the same way."

"Isn't Slytherin the one Voldemort was from?" Harry asked. Weasley's mouth fell open, and this time, Draco's followed.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" Weasley hissed.

"Sorry." Harry shrunk back into his seat.

"No, that's, um, that's okay." Weasley's voice sounded a bit strangled. "Um, anyway, my whole family's been in Gryffindor, including all my older brothers, so I'll probably--"

Draco snorted again, and both boys turned to look at him. He was surprised to find Harry glaring. Clearly he was a bit sensitive, so Draco would need to be more careful. Father always said it wouldn't do to offend those with power or popularity.

But apparently he had already offended him, because Harry didn't speak to him again. When the trolley witch came around selling snacks, Harry offered to share his with Weasley, then slowly, silently slid a couple treats over to Draco, as though he couldn't afford to buy his own. Draco ignored him and selected his own sweets, then stared out the window and ignored the conversation and other students looking for something-or-other until they arrived at Hogwarts.

As they climbed off the train, a man called for all the first years. Draco looked up and saw the enormous groundskeeper ushering the first years into a bunch of boats. He supposed it made sense Harry would be a little defensive of him. If he really had performed transfigurative magic on a muggle, that was pretty impressive for a servant.

Harry and Weasley climbed into a boat together, and Draco followed before it got full. He leaned on the edge of the boat and stared up at Hogwarts. His father had wanted him to go to Durmstrang, which had sounded quite interesting whenever he described it, but as the castle loomed over them in the dark, stars surrounding them overhead and in the lake's reflection, he couldn't help but wonder if his mother had been right.

The boats passed through a tunnel and deposited them underground. Hagrid lit a torch and led them up the tunnel. Draco waited until Ron started a conversation with another boy in front of them about the stories they had heard of Hogwarts before grabbing Harry and pulling him to the back of the group.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

"I'm ignoring you?" Harry asked. "Just because I didn't like how you were acting toward Ron? You're the one who wouldn't look at us and ignored when I tried to share my snacks."

Draco folded his arms. "I can afford my own snacks."

"What does that have to do with anything? I've never had friends to share anything with, and I've never had anything to share either! I was just glad to be able to, and you could have at least been nice about it!"

Draco studied him. He kept forgetting there was so much this boy didn't know. His own father had taken much time to show him how best to use wealth to gain loyalty and influence. If Harry had never been taught those lessons, of course he could hardly be blamed, but they could discuss that later.

"Are we friends?" Draco asked. His father would be proud if he became friends with The Boy Who Lived.

"I would like to be friends," Harry began carefully, "but Ron and Hagrid are my friends too, and I'm not going to be friends with anyone who's mean to them."

"You're going to be friends with Weasley?"

Harry stiffened, and Draco fought the urge to sigh. Be careful indeed. "Yes, he seems nice, and I want to be his friend. What's wrong with that?"

Draco hesitated, wondering how to say this gently. "It's just . . . his father isn't very well-respected. That family is full of blood traitors." He hoped that even if Harry didn't know the term, the tone would be clear enough.

"Why?"

Draco frowned. "Why what?"

"Why are they blood traitors?"

"Because they've turned their backs on wizarding tradition and associate with muggleborns and muggles. My father knows Weasley's, and he says he works in a department specifically for dealing with muggle objects."

"So? What's the matter with muggles? My mum's whole family are muggles. I mean, sure they're rotten, but they're probably the worst. There are good and bad muggles, just like there are good and bad wizards. And--and what if you were friends with a muggle? Or you wanted to get married to one? Would that make you a blood traitor?"

Draco flinched at that. Marry a muggle was not discussed at his house. There was a reason his mother never spoke to her sister.

Harry frowned. "Maybe that's just something I don't understand because I haven't grown up with wizards, but that just seems mean to treat people bad because they don't have any magic or they're friends with people who don't. I mean, my aunt and uncle hated me because I have magic, and I'm sure it must be just as bad the other way around."

Draco opened his mouth to say that was because muggles were stupid and couldn't tell that magic was a good thing, but Hagrid interrupted. Apparently they had reached the front doors.

"I want to make friends while I'm here," Harry whispered as Hagrid checked to make sure everyone was ready. "And I want you to be one of them, but I don't want to hang out with someone who's mean to my other friends."

Draco nodded. Fine. He could be civil enough to Weasley if it meant he would be friends with Harry. The first chance he got, he would write home about it. Father would be proud, and mother would be glad he had made a friend.

"Draco sent a letter," Narcissa told her husband when he came into the living room.

"So soon?" Lucius asked, and Narcissa shot him a hard look. "There's nothing wrong with that, of course. I'm simply surprised. I was glad to leave home my first year, and I never wrote at all unless it was necessary."

"Yes, well, Draco is different. You know that."

He nodded and sat beside her on the couch. "What did he say?"

Narcissa scanned the parchment. "He was sorted into Slytherin, he looks forward to his classes, and he's become friends with Harry Potter."

Lucius's eyebrows shot up. "Harry Potter? Really?"

She dropped the parchment back on her lap. "Yes. We met him at the train station, and I had hoped they might become friends."

He nodded. "The Boy Who Lived. That would certainly be beneficial--

"Do not ruin this for him. He's never had the opportunity to make many friends, and he should have the chance to be a child for a while."

"Yes, of course. I will not interfere. I only meant their friendship would look well." She pursed her lips and gave a slight nod, then turned back to the letter to read it again.

Lucius knew he shouldn't have said anything. She had been worrying for months about Draco going to school. She herself hadn't made friends easily at Hogwarts, preferring to stick close to her older sisters instead. That hadn't turned out well, and she was determined Draco would have a better experience.

He laid his hand over hers. "It will be alright. He already seems to be enjoying himself. I'm sure he will do well for himself at Hogwarts."

"I hope so."

Chapter Text

Potions class was the only one shared between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Draco made sure to arrive early and sit by Harry before Weasley got the chance on the first day.

I'm excited about potions," he said as he dropped into the seat. "Professor Snape is head of Slytherin house and a friend of my father's. My father speaks highly of him."

Harry bit his lip and glanced around. "I don't think he likes me."

"Why wouldn't he like you? He hasn't even met you yet."

Harry shrugged. "He seems mad at me whenever I see him.

"You're probably just imagining things."

"Maybe."

Professor Snape swept in, robes billowing behind him. He snatched up a scroll on the table and glared over it at ever student. Draco forced back a grin. This man knew how to make an entrance.

The scroll proved to be the class list, and the professor ran through it quickly until he reached Harry's name. "Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new celebrity." Harry shifted uncomfortably until Professor Snape looked away and launched into a speech about what they could expect from his class.

"Potter!" Harry flinched. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Uh . . ." Harry glanced at Draco, who shrugged. "I don't know, sir." A Gryffindor girl raised her hand, but Snape ignored her.

"Tut, tut. Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" The girl raised her hand again.

Draco knew that one. When Harry looked to him, he whispered, "stomach of a goat," out of the corner of his mouth.

"The--the stomach of a goat, sir?"

Professor Snape frowned. "And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" The girl shot to her feet, waving her hand in the air.

Harry looked at Draco again, but he didn't have the answer. "I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, so why don't you try her?"

"Sit down," the professor shouted at the girl. He took two points from Gryffindor for Harry's "cheek" and for cheating.

"It's not fair," Harry complained as they left class. "You gave me the answer. How come he didn't take points from you?"

Draco smirked. "Snape favors his house. Everyone knows that. I guess you should have just known the answers." Harry stuck out his tongue at him. Draco stuck out his tongue right back.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!" Harry slowed down to let Weasley catch up. He grimaced when he noticed Draco walking with Harry, then turned away and ignored him. "Can I go with you to Hagrid's?"

"Sure!"

"Hagrid's? Why are you going to Hagrid's?" Draco asked.

"He invited me for tea," Harry explained, looking unnecessarily happy about the arrangement. "Do you want to come?"

Draco forced a smile, reminding himself that Harry didn't appreciate his comments about the groundskeeper. "I have homework. I'll see you later."

"How's school going, Harry?" Hagrid asked after they had all settled with their tea and rock cakes.

"I like my classes," Harry began, "but they're so different than I'm used to, and a little tricky." He scrunched up his face. "I don't like potions, though. I think Snape hates me."

Hagrid cleared his throat and glanced away. "Rubbish! Why would he hate you?"

"He asked me a bunch of questions most people didn't know in front of everyone and completely ignored when Hermione raised her hand. Then when Draco tried to help me out, he took points from me for cheating, but didn't take any from him."

"That's cause Malfoy's a Slytherin," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I told you he goes easy on them."

"Malfoy?" Hagrid asked. "What are you doing hanging around a Malfoy?"

"We're friends," Harry said. "Or at least, I want to be."

Hagrid's face grew dark, and Harry was certain he was about to list all the reasons Harry shouldn't be friends with Draco. Why did all the wizards hate each other? Sure muggles had drama too, but it didn't usually seem to be to this extent. Or maybe he just hadn't paid enough attention.

"Be careful around him," Hagrid said. "I don't know anything about the boy, but his father was one of You-Know-Who's biggest followers."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine.

"He and dad don't get on because of it," Ron explained. "Dad says when You-Know-Who disappeared, Mr. Malfoy claimed everything he did was under the imperius curse, but dad never believed him."

"What's the imperius curse?"

"It's one of the unforgivable curses," Hagrid explained. It lets a witch or wizard control someone else."

"Oh, well, maybe he was under the imperius curse, then." Both Hagrid and Ron looked at him dubiously. "And anyway," Harry continued, "I've been telling Draco not to judge people based on their families, so I'm not going to do that to him."

"Do whatever you want, Harry," Hagrid said, "I'm just telling you to be careful."

Draco was thrilled to have his first flying lesson. He couldn't wait to show everyone his flying skills and hopefully have them realize first years should be allowed on the quidditch teams.

All the first year Slytherin and Gryffindor students gathered outside near a long line of broomsticks. Harry found one broomstick to stand by, and Draco and Weasley joined him on either side.

As soon as Madam Hooch told them to, Draco called, "Up." The broom flew straight into his hand. To his surprise, Harry's did the same thing. "I thought you've never flown before," Draco whispered as other students shouted at their brooms.

"I haven't," Harry hissed back.

Madam Hooch showed them how to mount the brooms, which Draco had learned ages ago, so he waited patiently with his broom, waiting for everyone else to catch up.

She stopped in front of him. "You're holding it wrong." She demonstrated the proper way to hold it, and Draco quickly fixed his grip, then flushed and stared down at the ground.

Accidents were expected in flying, particularly during a first lesson, and no one was surprised it was Neville Longbottom, a rather clumsy Gryffindor, who got injured first. As Madam Hooch helped him up and led him back to the school, Draco spotted the little orb he had received that morning. It must have fallen from his pocket.

"Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him!" Draco said. A couple other Slytherins laughed, and he grinned as he picked it up. He tilted his head as he studied it. "Maybe I should put it in a tree for him to find later." A couple more students laughed, and his grin widened at the sound.

"Don't be mean," Harry said. "Give it to me, and I'll give it to him later."

Draco frowned and tossed the ball in the air and caught it a couple times. "Alright." Harry held out his hand. "If you can beat me to the Astronomy tower," Draco finished. He mounted his broom and flew just out of reach before Harry could react.

"Give it back, Draco."

Draco tossed it up and caught it again. "You have to beat me first." Harry frowned, but mounted his broom.

"No!" a bushy-haired Gryffindor shouted. "Madam Hooch told us not to move! You'll get us all into trouble!"

Harry ignored her and flew up to meet Draco's height. He reached for the rememberall, but Draco pulled back and grinned. "Ready? Go!"

He shot up in the direction of the Astronomy tower, and, to his surprise, Harry kept a level pace with him. Was this really his first time on a broom?

Draco's broom started trembling, and he made a face. These school brooms were a piece of junk. If he had his broom from home, he could beat Harry in a heartbeat, but as it was, the other boy inched further and further past him until he touched the roof of the tower just seconds before Draco. He came to a stop and hovered next to the tower.

Harry grinned. "I win. Now give it here."

"Fine, but if I had my broom, I would have won."

Harry's grin shifted into a smirk. "I'm sure. Now give me the rememberall."

Draco handed it over right as his broom shivered again, jerking him a couple inches to the right. The rememberall slipped out of his grasp.

Before Draco could react, Harry dove for it. Draco followed, but there was no way he could catch up. He watched as Harry snatched it out of the air, then pulled back into a shallower angle and slowed down until he reached the ground. Draco landed a moment after him, already opening his mouth to ask how he had learned to fly a broom like that.

"Harry Potter!"

Every student stiffened as McGonagall stormed outside and launched into a lecture. Draco fidgeted with his broomstick and stared at the ground, waiting for her to move onto him, but she never did, instead marching Harry, and only Harry, back up to the castle.

The Gryffindor girl who had yelled at him before rounded on him as soon as McGonagall was out of earshot. "What were you thinking?. Madam Hooch told us not to touch the brooms!"

"Why did you drop the rememberall?" Weasley asked. "Harry won fair and square. You told him you'd give it to him if he did!"

"I didn't mean to drop it--"

"How is that what's important here?" the girl asked Weasley, then turned back to Draco. "You shouldn't have been flying at all!"

Draco looked down the row of Gryffindors glaring at him. He threw down his broom. "Whatever. I don't need flying lessons anyway." He stormed down to the lake.

Draco wandered over to the Gryffindor table during dinner, ignoring the stares and whispers. He found Harry whispering excitedly to Weasley, though he stopped as soon as Draco walked over. Draco picked at his robes and stared down at his shoes. "Sorry for getting you in trouble. I didn't mean to."

"That's okay," Harry said quickly. "But leave Neville alone and don't take his rememberall again."

"Yeah, okay, fine. But--you're really not mad?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't get into trouble actually . . ."

"What do you mean?"

Harry grinned. "You'll see. I'm not supposed to say yet."

Draco rolled his eye. "Fine. I guess I'll see you later."

The next morning, a long, broomstick-shaped package arrived--for Harry.

He and Weasley leapt up from the Gryffindor table and ran out of the hall. Draco ran after them and heard them whispering s he caught up.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "First years aren't allowed broomsticks. You're going to get in trouble. There are better ways of sneaking one in than a poor wrapping job."

Weasley rolled his eyes. "And I'm sure you know all about those, don't you?"

"Yes, actually, I do." He glanced at the package in Harry's hands. "So what is it? A Comet? A Cleansweep?"

"A Nimbus," Weasley said as proudly as if it had been his own. "A Nimbus Two Thousand."

Draco's jaw dropped.

"Hello, boys," Professor Flitwick passed them and glanced at Harry's package. "What have you got there?"

"Harry's just got his new broom," Weasley said, and Draco sighed. Had he not just heard him say first years couldn't have brooms?

"Ah, yes. McGonagall told me about the special circumstances. What model is it?"

What?

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," Harry said.

Professor Flitwick nodded. "Very nice, very nice. Have fun with that, Potter."

Draco gaped at the professor as he walked away, then whirled back around to Harry. "Special circumstances? What's he talking about?"

Harry and Weasley exchanged a glance. "Wood told me not to tell anyone, so you can't either, okay?" Harry asked.

"I won't. Tell me."

Harry grinned. "I'm the new Gryffindor seeker."

Draco's eyes widened. "You're on the quidditch team?"

"Shhh!" Weasley hissed. "Not so loud!"

He lowered his voice. "But there hasn't been a first year on the team--"

"In a hundred years, I know. I'm so excited."

"You're going to be amazing," Weasley said. "I'm sure Gryffindor will win the Quidditch Cup this year."

Draco folded his arms. "I wouldn't go that far. You've lost--how many years again?"

Weasley didn't answer that. "You're just jealous."

"I am not!"

Maybe a little.

"I've got to put this upstairs before class, Draco, but I'll see you later!" Harry waved, then ushered Ron up the stairs.

"Troll--in the dungeons--thought you ought to know." Quirrell fell to the ground and the Great Hall erupted in chaos.

"Troll? How did at troll get in?"

"Those things are vicious!"

"Everyone calm down. We can't panic--"

"We're all going to die!"

Fireworks exploded at the ceiling, drawing everyone's attention and shutting them up.

"Prefects," Dumbledore began, "lead your students back to the dormitories immediately."

The Slytherin prefect stood up and ushered the younger students into a line, pretending not to hear their whispers.

"Did he say the dormitories?"

"Surely we're not actually going down there!"

"What if we run into the troll?"

Draco couldn't stop fidgeting. His housemates had clumped together with their friends, and he suddenly wished he had taken the time to make some friends in his own house. Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn over to Harry and Weasley, who had stopped and were whispering as the other Gryffindors walked away. He frowned.

"Alright, everyone stick together! Let's go!" The clump of Slytherins started down the hall, and Draco worked his way to the edge, still watching Harry and Weasley, who suddenly darted off into the hall. When no one was paying attention, he slipped away as well. As he turned the corner, they came back into sight for an instant before ducking behind a statue.

"What are you doing?"

Weasley gasped, and Harry clapped his hand over the other boy's mouth.

"We thought you were Percy," Weasley whispered as he shoved Harry's hand away.

"You didn't answer my question. What are you--" Draco broke off as footsteps came down the corridor. Weasley grabbed his arm and dragged him behind the statue. They shrank back and pressed their backs against the wall, breathing shallowly to avoid discovery.

Professor Snape walked right past their hiding place and disappeared down another corridor. The boys glanced at each other, then slowly crept after him.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. Draco shrugged.

"He's heading up to the third floor--wait, do you smell something?" Weasley asked.

Well, yes, now that he mentioned it, there was a truly horrendous smell coming from--from--

Footsteps, heavy ones far too loud for any person to make, came towards them. Weasley pointed as a large shadow grew on the wall. They all shrank back and watched as the giant, grey figure approached, dragging a club along with it. Draco held his breath as it stopped and peered through an open door, then slowly wandered inside.

"The key's in the lock," Harry whispered. "We can lock it inside."

"Good idea," Weasley whispered back.

The two of them crept toward the room the troll had just entered. "What are you doing?" Draco hissed. "You're going to get killed!" Neither turned around, instead they waved for him to follow.

He was going to die. He was going to die because he had thought it would be a good idea to follow two Gryffindors wandering off during a troll attack. He should have known better.

Holding his breath, he slid out from behind the statue and crept behind them. Harry reached the door, crouched, then leapt up, slammed the door, and turned the key.

"Yes!" Weasley cheered, and Draco let out a long sigh. They started back toward the dormitories before anyone realized they were gone.

"You two are probably the stupidest people I've ever met," Draco said, shaking his head. "Did you come looking for the troll? Do you want to die?"

"Of course not," Harry said. "We were looking for Hermione to warn her about the troll. Pavarti said she was crying in the bathroom."

Draco frowned. Hermione . . . was that the bushy-haired girl who yelled at him during the flying lesson? "Why was she crying in the bathroom?"

"How should we know?" Weasley asked, though his face turned red, and he looked down at his shoes.

Someone screamed.

"Hermione," Harry and Weasley said at the same time, then they turned around and ran back.

"Guys! Shouldn't we find a professor?" Draco shouted, but they ignored him. "Fine, but if we die, I'm blaming you!" He ran after them.

Harry turned the key, and he and Weasley ran into the room. When Draco caught up, he found the troll knocking over sinks as it stumbled towards the first year witch. "Confuse it," Harry said, and he threw a piece of pipe at the troll.

That caught its attention. Draco and Weasley took a step back as the troll turned towards them, then lumbered toward Harry.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Weasley shouted as he threw another broken pipe, giving Harry a chance to skirt around the troll and grab Hermione's arm.

"Run--run!" Harry shouted, but she sat frozen, watching the troll in terror. It roared and lunged towards Weasley. Harry's eyes grew wide, and he let go of the girl's arm and ran for it, leaping up and onto the toll's back. It howled again, and Draco took the opportunity to slide past it, unnnoticed, and reach her.

"Come on," he hissed, and she shook her head slightly, eyes wide and fixed on the troll.

"Are you stupid?" he asked. "They're giving you time to escape, and you're just going to stay here and let us all be eaten?"

That worked. Hermione's eyes slid over to him, and she lifted her chin, then slowly pushed herself up onto trembling legs. He dragged her along, and they inched past the troll, staying carefully out of sight.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Weasley shouted, drawing Draco's attention, and the troll's club flew out of its hand and knocked it over the head. The troll swayed on its feet, then fell over in front of Harry and Weasley.

"Is it dead?" Hermione whispered.

"I think it was just knocked out." Harry knelt down and fished--was that his wand?--out of its nose.

All four of them stared uncomfortably at the troll, then glanced up at each other, before several professors rushed in.

Professor McGonagall looked at each of them in turn, and Draco swallowed when her anger reach him. "What on earth were you thinking?" she asked. "Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

"It's my fault, Professor!" Hermione piped up, and all three boys turned to her. "They were looking for me. I thought I could deal with the troll on my own since I've read about them. If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead, and they didn't have time to go look for anyone."

Draco glanced at Harry and Weasley, who were nearly gaping at the girl, and he wished he could tell them to shut their mouths. They were terrible liars.

"Well," Professor McGonagall huffed. "I don't know what you were thinking, Miss Granger, trying to take on a mountain troll by yourself. Five points from Gryffindor for this. Now go to your dormitory." Hermione left, and the professor glanced at Draco, Harry, and Weasley. "And boys, five points to each of you. Not many first years could take on a full-grown mountain troll. You may go."

They nearly ran out of the room and down the hallway.

"Thank goodness," Weasley panted, slowing as they turned the corner. "I was sure we were all going to be punished." He glanced at Draco and stopped. "Hang on, what were you doing wandering the halls if you weren't looking for Hermione?"

Draco shrugged. "I saw you guys wander off, and I figured following you would be safer than going to the dormitories."

"Safer?" Harry scrunched up his face. "Why safer?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Do you know where Slytherin dormitories are?"

Weasley's eyes widened. "Surely not--"

"In the dungeons? Yes."

"But--but--" he shook his head. "Maybe--maybe the troll was in a different set of dungeons."

"Or maybe Dumbledore hates Slytherin like my father's been saying for years." Draco said. "One or the other."

Weasley's face twisted into a combination of confusion and what looked uncomfortably like pity. "Well--well thanks for coming with us, anyway."

Draco glanced away and shrugged one shoulder. "It's not like I really did anything."

"But you came," Harry said. "That's something. So thanks."

Draco gave a tentative smile. "Well, thanks for taking care of the troll so I didn't have to." Harry and Weasley laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow," Harry waved cheerfully. Weasley didn't say anything, but he gave a small smile and raised his hand in a not-quite wave.

Chapter Text

"Snape hates me," Harry groaned as they sat in the library the next day. He dropped his head onto the table beside the parchment he was supposed to write his essay on.

"He dislikes you," Draco agreed as he flipped through his potions textbook, "a lot, but I don't think he hates you."

"You were in potions today, weren't you?" Weasley asked. "When he threw Harry's entire potion out because it smelled a little funny?"

"Like I said, he dislikes him a lot, more than the other Gryffindors, but why would he hate him?"

Harry's voice drifted up from the table. "Hagrid knows."

"Hagrid knows what?" A stack of books dropped in front of the chair beside Draco, and he looked up to find Hermione staring curiously at Harry's head on the table.

"Why Snape hates Harry," Weasley explained.

She tilted her head to the side, considering. "He seems to dislike all Gryffindors, but he does treat you worse." She gave Draco a unimpressed look. "But he seems to like the Slytherins."

Draco grinned and shrugged. "Hey, I didn't ask him to treat us better, but I'm not going to complain."

She rolled her eyes and sat down. "That's wrong, by the way." She pointed to his potions essay.

"What?"

"There are five main uses of mustard seed in potions, not four."

Draco stared at her for a second, then grabbed the book that listed the potion making properties of different plants and flipped through it.

She was right.

He sighed as he scratched out his sentence and corrected it.

"And shouldn't you be working on your essay too?" she asked, turning her sharp gaze back on Harry.

"What's the point?" he grumbled. "He's going to give me a bad grade whatever I do."

"But he's a professor," she said. "And the homework is to help you learn."

Harry sat back up in his seat. "Yeah, I know." He grabbed his bag and dug for a quill. Draco pushed the book he had been using over to him.

"What about you?" Weasley asked Hermione suspiciously. "Those don't look like potions books. Don't you have to work on your essay?"

"I finished it," she said haughtily. Draco sighed. He probably would have finished too, if Harry and Weasley hadn't been talking so much.

"So you don't need the potions books we're using?" Draco asked.

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

Weasley and Harry each kicked one of his legs, and he winced. "Ow! I was just asking. You've never sat with us before."

She tossed her curly hair out of her face and over her shoulder. "I just thought I'd change things up today."

Draco frowned. Clearly there was something else going on here he didn't understand, but he shook his head and turned back to his essay. "Okay."

"Did you get the book?" Weasley asked when Harry met them in the library. Snape had taken Hermione's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which she had lent to Harry, and he had been trying to get it back.

"No. He was in the staffroom with Filch, but I figured out why he's been limping! His leg looks horrible, all covered with blood and cut up."

Draco had been trying to tune out the conversation so he could do his homework, but the new information made him look up.

"Really? What do you think could have happened?" Weasley asked, at the same time that Hermione gasped, "That's horrible!"

"I don't know what happened," Harry said, "But he said something about three heads. Do you think he was attacked by some sort of creature?"

Everyone turned to Hermione, and she raised her chin, clearly proud to be helpful. "It's certainly possible. There are several magical creatures with three heads, though most of them wouldn't attack humans, or they're too small to cause much damage, but there are still some dangerous ones, and the Forbidden Forest is probably forbidden for a reason."

"So you think he was just wandering around the Forbidden Forest for an evening stroll then?" Weasley asked, rolling his eyes. Draco went back to his homework while the two of them argued.

"I do still need a way to get the book back," Harry interjected. "Since talking to him didn't work."

"Why don't you sneak into his office?" Draco suggested.

"I--I shouldn't do that . . ."

"Why not? He took it first, didn't he?"

Weasley and Hermione stopped arguing to offer their opinions. "That's brilliant!" "Draco, he's a professor!"

"Then he should know that not taking library books outside isn't a rule, especially since that wasn't a library book." Hermione didn't argue, probably because she had read all the school rules and knew he was right.

"But you still shouldn't sneak into his office."

"I think it's a great idea," Weasley said, as though there had ever been a question. "But--" he pointed at Draco, "--you have to come with us. If we get caught, Snape'll be less likely to punish us horribly. And plus it'll even out the house points a bit."

"Fine, but only if you lot shut up and let me work." Thankfully, they did.

That night, he realized there was one thing he hadn't considered: four students was an awful lot to try to hide in mostly empty corridors. The four of them met outside the Great Hall and crept down the corridors towards Snape's office. They made it without trouble, but a small scuffle erupted outside the door as they tried to decide who should stand lookout. Eventually it was decided that Draco was the best choice, and he was left outside, grumbling, though he knew they had a point.

Every sound inside the office made him cringe, and he felt he could hear the seconds pass. The corridor was long, empty, and open. Honestly, what would he do if someone did come? He would have time to sound the alarm, but they didn't have much of an escape plan.

Whispers drifted through the crack in the door. "Did you find it?" "No."

"Do you hear something my sweet?"

Uh oh.

Draco slipped into the office. Weasley spotted him first and rolled his eyes. "A lookout is supposed to stay outside and--"

"I know," Draco hissed, "but Filch is coming."

Weasley's eyes widened and he shoved the book he'd been holding back onto a shelf. Harry dropped the papers he'd been shuffling through, and Hermione ran over to the door to peek through the crack. The boys crowded around her.

Draco couldn't see anything, but they could hear Filch walking past, grumbling to himself about students out of bed. Could he move any slower? Eventually, they couldn't hear him anymore, and Hermione slowly opened the door a bit more.

"Let's go," she whispered. They crept out, one at a time, and Draco glanced back to make sure the office didn't look ransacked, and at that moment, a book carelessly placed on the corner of the table decided to fall.

Everything stopped, like time was frozen, then Weasley said a word Draco would never have dared say in front of his parents, and they all took off running, no longer bother to be quiet.

Filch was behind them soon enough, and they just ran, not bothering to look where they were going--up stairs, down corridors, around corners. Eventually they ran into a large door and Weasley grabbed the handle. It was locked.

"We're done for," he groaned.

"Oh, move over!" Hermione shoved him out of the way and tapped the knob with her wand. "Alohamora!" The door swung open, and they ran inside, panting as the door swung shut.

Draco listened for Filch, but it sounded like he ran right past the corridor, and Draco sagged against the door.

"Um, guys?" Weasley whispered, and the others turned around.

The largest dog Draco had ever seen stood over them, drooling from three angry heads. The dog growled, and Harry grabbed for the door handle, yanking the door out from behind them. They all staggered back, then ran again, and Harry slammed the door in the dog's face. They ran back down the stairs, then stopped, listening for any sounds of pursuit, whether dog or man, but they heard nothing, so they waited to catch their breath.

"What was that thing doing locked up here?" Weasley panted.

"Didn't you see what it was standing on?" Hermione asked.

"The floor?" Draco asked.

"I wasn't paying attention to its feet, Hermione," Harry said.

She chose to ignore their answers. "It was standing on a trapdoor, so obviously it's guarding something."

"You reckon that's what attacked Snape?" Weasley asked.

Harry shrugged. "It had three heads."

"But why would it attack him?"

"Hang on," Harry said. "That's the third-floor corridor we're not supposed to go to, right? And on Halloween, when the troll attacked, we saw Snape run up to the third floor, remember?"

"You think Snape was trying to get to the trapdoor?" Draco asked.

"But why?" Hermione asked.

"I think--I think he was trying to steal whatever is in there," Harry said. "It's something important, I'm sure of it. When Hagrid took me to Dragon Alley, he had to stop at Gringott's to get a package as a special favor to Dumbledore. I think whatever was in that package is what the dog was guarding."

"But why would Snape steal it," Hermione asked, exasperated. "He's a professor."

"I agree," Draco said. "Surely he could just ask to borrow it." Harry didn't look convinced.

Hermione shook her head. "Let's go to bed before we get caught. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Sorry about the book, Harry," Weasley said, patting him on the shoulder.

Harry shrugged. "It's probably better. He would have known it was me."

"Hey Draco!" Weasley called, waving from where he and Hermione sat. There was an empty space next to them, but he just waved and kept searching. This was a Gryffindor verses Slytherin match, after all. He should sit with his own house.

He found a spot with a few boys he knew from his parents’ parties. They paused their conversations with their other housemates long enough to greet him, but then immediately went back to what they were saying. He tried to join in the conversations around him, but the loudest one was about second-year courses he couldn’t quite follow, and the others were too quiet for him to listen to without being obvious.

Without meaning to, he realized he was looking at Ron and Hermione. Hagrid sat with them now, and the three of them passed around a pair of binoculars and laughed and poked each other. He turned away and focused on the players lining up into their starting positions.

The game started, and a Gryffindor student leapt into his commentary. The quaffle was shuffled around and around, and beaters chased all the players, but Draco couldn’t focus on any of it. All he could think about was how he wished he was up there with them, flying around the stadium instead of stuck in the crowd.

Harry drifted above them all, searching for the snitch as the chasers made their goals. Wouldn’t it be amazing if Draco were the Slytherin seeker? Then they could compete, really compete, with Draco’s broom from home instead of the junk they kept at school.

“What is Potter doing?”

“Is he crazy?”

“Wow, he sure doesn’t know how to use a broom, does he? What were they thinking putting a first-year on the team?”

Draco jerked, searching for Harry. He still hovered over the rest of the players, where he had been most of the game, but now his broom jerked and swerved. Draco shot to his feet and his jaw dropped. He’d never seen a broom try to kick off its rider like that before. Someone had to stop it!

He glanced around, sure someone must be doing something to help by now, and caught sight of Hermione running towards him. She paid no attention to where she was stepping or who she knocked over on her way.

“It’s Snape!” she hissed when she reached him.

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. Why would Professor Snape try something like this? “What do you--?” But she was already gone, running towards Professor Snape.

Draco ran after her, catching up just in time to see her set the professor’s robes on fire. She waited until Professor Snape noticed the flames curling up the fabric, then collected them again in a small jar, turned around and grabbed Draco’s hand, then dragged him away before the professor noticed them.

“Look!” She pointed to Harry, now secure once again on his broom, zooming down to the ground. “See? I told you it was Snape.”

Draco looked back toward Professor Snape, who was thoroughly distracted checking his robes for any remaining flames. She had a point, but what was Professor Snape trying to do?

The crowd erupted, dragging his attention back to the game, and Harry waving the snitch in the air. Before Draco had a chance to process the fact that Harry was okay, the game was over, and Gryffindor had won, Hermione was already dragging him down to the field.

“Come on,” she said. “We need to get Harry, and then we have a lot to talk about.”

Chapter Text

"Flamel . . . Flamel . . . ." Draco turned the pages of the index of Modern Potioneers and Practitioners. "F . . . l . . . a . . ."

Nothing. The index skipped straight over from Fawcette to Forner.

He sighed as he shut the book and tucked it back into its spot on the library shelf. He had no idea if Nicholas Flamel had anything to do with potions or not, but they were running out of options.

Ever since that oaf of a gamekeeper had let the name slip after the Slytherin-Gryffindor quidditch match, he, Harry, Weasley, and Hermione had spent every free minute in the library searching for the name. He was sure he had heard it before, he just couldn't remember where. He had considered writing his father and asking about it, but he knew exactly what his parents' response would be. They would tell him that whatever Professor Snape was up to was his business, and if he really needed something to occupy his time, he should focus on his studies.

He could hardly stop searching now, though. If Hermione was right that Professor Snape was trying to kill Harry, they needed proof, and for that, they needed to figure out what he was planning. But even besides that, he wanted them to be the ones to puzzle it out. He wanted to solve the mystery and then tell his parents--let everyone see what they had done.

At least it was almost the holidays. He could search the family library then and write to the others if he found anything.

Weasley groaned as he put his own book back on the shelf. "We've searched almost this whole library and still haven't found anything."

"Well luckily you and Harry will have the whole holiday to search the rest of it," Hermione said primly.

"Wait, what?" Draco turned around to face them. "Aren't you going home?"

Harry made a face. "No thanks. I'd rather not spend the whole holiday with my aunt and uncle. As soon as I found out staying here was an option, I signed up."

"You should have told me sooner!" Draco insisted. "Let me write to Mum. I'm sure she'd be happy to have you stay with us."

Harry's mouth fell open. "You--you don't have to do that. I'll be fine here. Besides, Ron's staying since his parents are traveling, and I don't want to leave him alone."

Weasley's eyes darted away and he cleared his throat as he picked up another book. "It's fine. Mum wrote me that they might have room for me after all."

He must have told Harry he couldn't go home for Christmas so they could stick together for the holiday. Well, if Mum said Harry couldn't come, he'd stay too. Then the three of them could spend their time together.

Harry's eyes darted from Draco's to Weasley's and back again. "Well, if--if you're both sure . . ."

"I'll write her as soon as we're done here," Draco assured him.

"But if no one stays, how are we supposed to continue our research?" Hermione asked.

"Harry and I will search my family's library, of course," Draco said. "It's full of magical books, including plenty Hogwarts would never dare to keep for students."

"Oh." Hermione's eyes glittered at the idea of another library, filled with usually restricted knowledge. "Yes, I'm sure you'll find something then."

Mum said yes, of course, and included a few discrete questions about what Harry liked in her letter back. Draco told her he was the new Gryffindor seeker (and he was only a little jealous), and that he had an elegant snowy owl named Hedwig.

They spend the last few days before the holidays making plans with Weasley and Hermione about where the best places were to start in their search of the Malfoy family library and shopping for presents. The day before they left, Weasley waited until they were leaving the Great Hall, then thrust a wrapped package into Draco's hands.

"For Christmas," he explained, ears growing pink. "But I reckon you don't want to explain to your parents why you're getting mail from my family's owl."

"Oh." Draco's shoulders sagged, relived. He had been trying to decide what to do about Weasley's Christmas gift. His father definitely wouldn't approve of him borrowing the family owl to send to the Weasleys. This was a much better solution. "Thanks. Let me go get yours."

"Do your parents really hate each other that much?" he heard Harry ask as he dashed back to his common room. He snorted, guessing Weasley's reply though he couldn't hear it.

He grabbed both Weasley's and Hermione's presents from under his bed. Harry's he would give to him on Christmas. When he found Harry and Weasley again, Hermione was with them, arms full of gifts she had apparently decided to go ahead and distribute.

"Don't open it until Christmas," she said firmly when she handed him his.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mum."

Weasley leaned over when Hermione and Harry got distracted discussing something about the owl post and Hedwig, and whispered, "I think Mum's going to try to send Harry something for Christmas. Is that going to be a problem, or should I tell her to send it here for when he gets back?"

Draco hesitated. "It's . . . probably fine." Mum wouldn't be happy about it, but the gift would be for Harry, not them. "But maybe send it for the house-elves to deal with."

Weasley's expression pinched slightly, but he nodded.

When they finished exchanging gifts, they each headed toward their dormitories to finish packing and get some sleep. Draco tucked his wrapped packages from Weasley and Hermione into the bottom of his trunk, then carefully covered them with the few robes he wanted to take home with him, the textbooks he needed for homework, and any other necessities for the holiday.

Despite their well-intentioned promises to Hermione, they did not head to the library first thing when they arrived at the manor.

Mum sent Dobby upstairs with their trunks and showed Harry to the guest bedroom (the one closest to Draco!) that they had prepared for him. Harry was startled by the size of the manor and impressed by everything he saw, which of course meant Draco had to show him all around.

After their rooms, they stopped by the kitchens first (the house-elves loved Harry) and stole some biscuits, then peeked at Father's office (Draco wasn't allowed to touch anything in there without permission or supervision, but that didn't mean they couldn't look), and then the gardens (the peacocks did not like Harry, and Draco decided they should move to the backyard after one tried to chase him).

"You have a quidditch pitch?" Harry's eyes widened as the rings came into view around the corner of the manor.

"Of course," Draco said. "Mum loves quidditch. She was a chaser in school and wanted to make sure I learned early. I practically grew up on a broom."

Harry turned wide eyes on him, and he grinned. "Did you bring your broom? Do you want to play?"

"Yes!" Harry said, and the boys ran back inside to collect their brooms.

With only two of them, they could hardly play an ordinary game, but Harry had only practiced as a seeker, and Draco preferred that anyway, so they released the snitch, chasing it around until one of them finally caught it, then releasing it again. They played this way for hours, until Draco finally asked if he could try the Nimbus 2000. Harry agreed and they swapped brooms.

"It's nice," Draco said as he landed after trying a few flips. "It's definitely the fastest broom out right now. I've always preferred Cleansweeps over Nimbuses though. They're better at sharper turns and good for tricks."

Harry shrugged. "I've never tried any other brooms besides the ones at school." He gestured to Draco's . "This is definitely better than that, though."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Not that hard to beat."

He tossed up the snitch, and they each hopped up on the other's broom again, testing their skills on the unfamiliar broom until Mum sent a house-elf to call them in for dinner.

"Now," Mum began once the house-elves had finished serving the food and disappeared into the kitchen. "I want to hear everything."

Draco and Harry exchanged a quick glance across the table, a silent promise not to tell her everything, then Draco launched into a description of their various classes and professors, while Harry ate his meal silently, only jumping in when Mum or Father asked him a question directly.

"Oh." Draco cut himself off abruptly and looked up at father when the topic turned to potions class. "About Professor Snape."

Harry froze, eyes boring into Draco in a way that said, don't you dare.

Draco's glare said back, stop it, I know how to be careful.

"I know he's never really liked Gryffindor," he continued smoothly, "But he seems to really hate Harry, and I just can't figure out why."

Mum and Father exchanged a look that meant they definitely knew, and Draco tried to keep his face innocently curious.

"Hate," Mum said finally, "is a very strong word."

"Doesn't mean it's wrong," Harry mumbled into his plate.

"Harry, don't mumble. It's not polite."

Harry flushed, hunching his shoulders further. "Sorry, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Call me Narcissa, dear." Harry's head shot up to stare at her. "Now, would you like to repeat that?"

"Um, I just meant, hate is a strong word, but I think it still applies."

Mum's lips pursed together, and Father shook his head. Draco opened his mouth to defend Harry's assessment, but before he could, Father said, "I had hoped he was over that by now."

Draco and Harry exchanged a look, then turned back to Father. "Over what?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Severus and your father had a rivalry, of sorts, back in school. It seems Severus never got over it."

"What sort of rivalry?" Draco asked.

"Nothing fit for polite discussion," Mum said firmly, though her eyes drifted to Harry for an instant.

"So, what?" Harry asked. "He hates me because he and my dad didn't get on when they were kids?" He looked back at Draco, who knew they were both thinking the same thing--that rivalry might explain why Professor Snape treated him the way he did in class, but it didn't explain why he might want to kill him. There must be something else than his parents knew.

Mum sighed. "You do look exceptionally like your father, and old grudges can become . . . twisted."

Harry slumped, disappointed, back in his chair, and Draco cast him a sympathetic smile. It seemed Nicholas Flamel was still their only lead.

Perhaps Draco shouldn't have been surprised when they still couldn't find anything in his family's library, but he was.

"I can't believe it!" He complained, slamming another book shut. "How is there nothing?"

"Maybe we're just looking in the wrong place?" Harry suggested, but he didn't sound particularly encouraging.

"Where else should we be searching?"

Harry shrugged. "Hopefully Ron's having more luck than we are."

Draco snorted. "I doubt it. I've heard his dad doesn't bother with much besides muggles. Maybe Hermione's found something, though."

Harry frowned, tilting his head. "Is that a joke?"

Draco blinked. "Why would that be a joke?"

"Her parents are dentists. They definitely won't be able to help with this."

He frowned. "What's a dentist?"

"A muggle tooth doctor." Draco stiffened, and Harry said something else he couldn't make out through the blood rushing in his ears.

Muggles. Both of them?

He hadn't recognized her name as one of the Sacred 28, but he'd just assumed she had to be a half blood, being at the top of every class. She couldn't be muggle-born. She just couldn't!

"Both of her parents are muggles?"

Harry put his own book back on the shelf. "Yeah, why?" He turned back to look at Draco, then his face fell into a scowl. "Oh, right. You have a problem with muggle-borns."

Draco pulled out another book without bothering to look at the title. Hermione was muggle-born. How was Hermione muggle-born? It didn't make any sense.

His parents couldn't find out.

They couldn't find out he'd spent so much time with her. It wouldn't matter that he hadn't known. Father would say he should have found out what family she was from before becoming friends.

And Weasley . . . . He had hoped to eventually convince his parents that Weasley was alright, even if his parents were blood traitors, but now--

"Do you really care that much?" Harry asked incredulously. "You're not going to stop being friends with her now, are you? Just over this?"

"I--I don't know! Why do you care? It's none of your business!"

"It is! Because she's my friend. And I thought she was yours too." Harry stopped to give him one last glare before storming from the room.

Chapter Text

With two young boys in the house, Narcissa was expecting a rather lively Christmas, so it was with not a little surprise that she woke up naturally that morning and, after shrugging on her dressing gown, found the boys at the table having a rather tense breakfast.

"Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Draco said, though he didn't meet her eyes. Harry stayed silent.

Did they fight? She remembered many petty spats she and her sisters had when they were the boys' age. She also remembered any attempt by their parents to resolve things only made it worse.

"Well, what do you say we wake your father so we can open gifts?"

Draco perked up, but strangely, Harry did not. "Alright, Mum."

She had one of the house-elves fix a breakfast tray for herself and Lucius, then went to wake him. When they came back to the living room together, she found Draco and Harry both sitting on the floor in front of the tree. Draco sorted the gifts according to who they belonged to, and Harry picked at the rolled-up sleeve of the pajama shirt, strangely uninterested in the activity.

"Here are yours, Mum," Draco said, carrying over a small pile of gifts. "And father's."

He walked back over to his own stack, then pushed Harry's gifts closer to where he sat. "Here, Harry. These are yours."

Harry's head jerked toward him, and he looked open-mouthed from the gifts, to Draco, and back again. "I have presents?"

Lucius cast Narcissa a concerned look as she was suddenly filled with the same burning anger she had felt when she first met Harry--alone, afraid, and abandoned in the train station.

Draco's face twisted into an incredulous expression. "Of course you do."

Narcissa forced herself to take a slow, careful breath and keep her usual placid smile. "I do hope you like them. Lucius and I did our best picking them out for you."

"Oh," he said softly. "I--I didn't know. Thank you."

Draco elbowed him. "Come on, let's open them."

The boys tore into their presents after that--a practice snitch charmed to glow in the dark along with a book on flying maneuvers for Harry, and a new owl for Draco, along with owl treats for both of them. Then Harry had to run upstairs to collect his own owl so the two could meet each other. While Narcissa and Lucius opened their own gifts, the boys ate the sweets they received from each other and pushed owl treats through the bars of the cage until Lucius had to remind them not to make the owls (or themselves) sick.

"Aren't you going to open your last one?" Draco asked.

Harry looked back at the last, rather lumpy, package sitting beside him. "I thought I opened all mine. It's not from any of you, is it?"

"It's not from us," Narcissa said with a frown, and Draco shook his head.

Mipsy, the house-elf, paused as she gathered the breakfast tray. "It came by owl this morning for Mister Harry Potter, so Mipsy put it with the other gifts."

"Ah," Narcissa said. "It must be from one of your friends then."

Harry turned it over, searching for a note, then lit up when he finally found one. "It's from Mrs. Weasley!"

Narcissa's frown deepened, and Lucius leaned forward. "Mrs. Weasley, you say?"

"Yes! She must have--" Harry cut himself off and his expression shuttered when he looked up at them. "That is . . . Ron must have asked her to send me something. We're in the same house, you know."

"Ah," Lucius said. "Of course it is a lovely thing to find friends in your own house, but I think it would be wise to remind you, Harry, that it is important to use discretion when choosing the people you surround yourself with. Regardless of your intentions, people will make judgements about you based on your friends. You and Draco are still very young, and I believe it's important for both of you to have someone to teach you about the right sort of friends you should seek out."

Something unreadable crossed Harry's face as he turned to look at Draco, who stared down at his sweet wrappers and let his shoulders hunch slightly. She bit her tongue before she could correct his posture. Clearly there was something else going on here, and she wondered if it had to do with their fight.

"I understand, Mr. Malfoy," he said eventually, "But I think I should be the one to decide what the right sort of friends I'm looking for is."

Lucius's brows rose, his expression growing colder, and Harry rushed to continue. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but . . . well, my uncle is always trying to teach my cousin who he considers the "right sort" of people too, and I think he's wrong about most of it. So, it just seems to me that everyone should have to decide that for themselves."

Lucius's face cracked into a smile and he chuckled. "You're a wise young man. I'm sure you'll do great things one day." He turned to smile at Draco as well, who smiled up proudly at him. "Both of you."

Much more subdued than Draco, Harry said politely, "Thank you, sir."

This was the best Christmas ever, Harry decided, as he ate one of the chocolate frogs Hermione gave him in bed in the Malfoy's guest room. He leaned closer to the lit candle on the nightstand so he could see his new flying book better. He should probably be sleeping, but he was too excited to relax.

He jumped when he heard a tapping. Was that Draco's parents? Would they be mad at him for staying up so late? Then the tapping continued, and he realized it was coming from the window.

He slid out from under the covers and peeked out the window. An owl hovered just outside, a package in its claws. He opened the window and took the package.

"Thank you," he whispered, and the owl hooted before flying off.

He tore open the paper, and silky, silvery fabric slid out and onto the floor. He picked it up, shaking it out, and a note fell out of it.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well, and use it carefully.

A Very Merry Christmas to you

That was it. He looked all over for some sign as to who sent it, but saw nothing. Setting the note carefully aside, he spread the fabric out on the bed and found it seemed to be a cloak.

But why? Why the secrecy of sending him a cloak without a name? And why so late at night? Use it carefully. That seemed to be a further warning about keeping it a secret, but what was so special about a cloak?

Curious, he put it on, then ran to the mirror hanging on the wall to see how it looked. It was too big, of course, though it seemed too big for even a tall adult, which was strange. Then he caught sight of his reflection and gasped.

His face gaped back at him, hovering over empty space where his neck and torso should be.

He pulled off the cloak, bound it up into his arms, then ran down the hall to Draco's room. He raised his hand to knock, then stopped.

He'd almost forgotten their fight in the excitement of the day, but now, without his parents around, would Draco even want to talk to him? He wouldn't let Draco hurt Hermione, but neither did he want to lose a friend. He had never had one before, and didn't want to lose any of them.

He knocked softly.

A moment later, the door swung open, and Draco watched him warily. He didn't look like he had slept.

"I want to show you something," Harry whispered. His fingers tightened in the folds of the cloak. Would Draco slam the door in his face? Would he decide Harry wasn't good enough to be friends with since he was raised by muggles? Would--

The door swung open wider. "Alright."

Sighing in relief, Harry slipped inside and shut the door behind him, then climbed onto the bed beside where Draco sat. "I got another present. It came just a minute ago."

Draco frowned. "Really? Why so late?"

"I think it was supposed to be secret. It didn't have a name or anything on it, just this." He handed over the note. "I think the person who sent it didn't want your parents to see."

Draco looked up. "Then . . . why are you showing me?"

Harry shifted on the bed, fidgeting with the edge of the blankets. "I don't want to keep secrets from my friends." He chanced a glance up and found Draco beaming at him, looking as relieved as he had felt a moment ago.

"So, what is it?" Draco asked.

Harry grinned as he held his hands up, letting the cloak spill down to pool on the bed. Draco looked disappointed. "A cloak? Really? What's with all the secrecy then?"

"Not just any cloak," Harry said. "Watch!" He swung it around his shoulders and watched Draco's eyes widen.

"You got an invisibility cloak? Really? Wow, I've heard those are really rare and expensive. Hey, come out so I can see it."

Harry shrugged it off, and Draco pinched some of the fabric between his fingers and held it up to inspect it. "This is really nice. I've never heard of one like this. I wonder why someone decided to give it to you."

"Cause it was my dad's, right? I mean, they just reckoned I was supposed to get it anyway, wasn't I?"

"So they say," Draco said, looking at the note again.

"You think they were lying?" His heart sank. He wanted to have something of his dad's. The vault was great, of course, knowing he never had to ask Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon for money, but he wanted something that was actually his. "Why would they lie?"

"No idea. And they might not be, but you shouldn't believe anything someone tells you that you can't verify yourself. That's what Father says."

"Even you?" Harry shot back.

"Of course," Draco smiled, clearly proud of this fact. "I'm a Malfoy. "We're good at making things work for ourselves."

"Uh huh," Harry said, unimpressed. "So what do you think I should do with it?"

Draco gasped, leaning forward. "We can sneak into the kitchen and see if we can find some biscuits!"

"Let's wait till we get back to Hogwarts. Then if someone notices, they won't suspect us."

"Oh, good point."

The boys were thick as thieves after Christmas, their fight seemingly forgotten, to Narcissa's relief. She frequently found them either in the library or in one of their rooms, heads bent together, whispering about something.

This continued all the way down to the train station to take them back to school. They each nearly ran their trunks or bird cages into an unsuspecting person because they couldn't stop whispering to each other.

"Really, boys," she sighed after having to grab Harry's shoulder to keep him running into a wall. "What mischief are you planning for your poor teachers?"

"No mischief, Mum."

"Why would you think we're planning something?"

She pursed her lips at the two wide-eyed innocent faces looking up at her and shook her head. "Well, you'll have the whole train ride to discuss whatever you're whispering about, so if you could please keep an eye on your surroundings."

"Sorry."

She managed to get them to the platform without further incident. Then she pulled Draco into her arms. "Be careful, and don't get into trouble, both of you."

"Mum," Draco complained, trying to pull away. "I'm almost twelve. I don't need a hug."

"Of course you do. Haven't you heard all almost-twelve-year-old boys require at least one hug every few months? This will tide you over until you get home for the summer." She dropped a kiss on the top of his head, and he complained again.

She let go of him and caught sight of Harry watching them wistfully. She smiled and held out her arms. "You too."

He hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other. "I'm not almost twelve, though. My birthday isn't until July."

She pretended to think. "That's certainly close enough. Come here."

Grinning, he dropped his trunk and ran over, and she wrapped him up tight. He squeezed her, far too tight, but she said nothing, just waiting until he relaxed a bit before letting go herself. "Have a good term, boys."

Draco already had his trunk and bird cage ready to load up on the train. "We will. Bye, Mum!"

"Bye, Mrs. Malfoy!"

"Call me Narcissa," she reminded him, then waved as they both climbed onto the train. She stayed on the platform, watching, until the train was fully out of sight.