Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy woke from the warm embrace of his blankets with an unusual start. You see, if you had told him last night that the morning of July 31st, 1991, would be spent being dragged out of bed by what sounded like an excited Pansy Parkinson who was actively yelling into his ear, he would've never believed you—not for a second.
Because Pansy didn't get excited, and she certainly didn't yell; the girl was only ever capable of making backhanded insults and rolling her eyes, but lo and behold, here she was, tugging on Draco's arm so hard that it might be pulled out of its socket any minute now.
In fear for his beautiful arm, Draco responded to her squeals with a low murmur and raised his head. It took him a few seconds to regain his bearings, the usual “where am I”s and “do I exist”s circling his mind.
Only to be met with more contradictions to his supposedly normal life (if you could count being heir to one of the richest families in wizarding society as “normal”).
In his bedroom were four other people—which were four people too many to be inside his room all at once—especially when Draco looked outside his window just past Blaise Zabini (which was an unusual guest in itself, even outside his room), and realized there was barely enough light outside, the gardens of Malfoy Manor cast in a dark shade of blue.
“Is there a party going on that I wasn't aware of?” Draco croaked, blinking up at Pansy, who he would now blame for ruining his Wednesday.
“No silly, it's today!” Pansy scoffed, freeing Draco's arm and putting her hands on her hips. Draco could hear a faint chuckle that was poorly disguised as a cough somewhere in the room (probably Theodore Nott, another uninvited guest).
Draco sat up from his bed, meeting the eyes of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle who were shamelessly munching on the chocolates from his bedside table.
“And what is today, exactly?” he asked, and Theo jumped at the opportunity to answer.
“Well, it's your boyfriend's birthday,” which earned him an elbow to the ribs by Pansy.
"What he means is,” Pansy paused, for the suspense Draco guessed. “rumour has it that today is Harry Potter’s birthday, and if you read the letters I sent you then you would've known that, which means you obviously didn't.”
His cheeks bloomed a light pink, turning his head away to look at his suddenly very interesting blanket—a golden snitch patterned thing that his mother bought him for Christmas last year—“You send about three parchments full of mundane things in each letter, don't blame me,” he muttered.
It was true, Draco had learned to stop reading Pansy’s letters after the fourth batch was only filled with what transpired at a tea party that Draco had attended with her.
Pansy scoffed and took a step back, which was apparently the cue for Blaise to start talking. “As right as you are, don't act like Pansy's the only one you've been ignoring lately, all five of us has been owling you non-stop and frankly, I'm personally insulted."
I send you the most important gossip in wizarding Britain only to be met with an empty-handed owl every time, so the purpose of this surprise visit is—what I like to call—staging an intervention,” Blaise said with his arms crossed in small, but smug triumph.
Draco looked between his five friends, and for a second he almost felt touched by the effort they made just to continue talking to him, but what Pansy had said earlier was bothering him, “okay, but why on Harry Potter's birthday?” He asked, starting to realise there might be a catch to this sudden sweetness.
“Because,” Pansy drawled, dragging out the word “it isn't a secret how utterly taken you are by The Boy Who Lived,” she said matter-of-factly.
“So what better way to get your attention than to celebrate his birthday?” Theo chimed in, taking out a piece of parchment from Greg's chest pocket, “we have the whole day planned out for you.”
“Don't worry, we already have your mum's blessing,” Vince said around a mouthful of chocolates, patting Draco's shoulder with sticky, chocolate covered fingers that Draco fought hard not to grimace at.
“And whatever your mother agrees on, Lucius Malfoy doesn't have a chance to fight it, so get dressed. We'll meet you downstairs,” Blaise said with an air of finality, and the group sifted out of the room.
Greg was the last to leave, giving Draco an apologetic look and Draco wasn't sure if it was for eating his chocolates or something else.
Draco knew this was going to be a long, long day.
The first thing on Theo's list of activities to do was to shop at Diagon Alley, so to Diagon Alley they went.
Narcissa Malfoy went with them as a chaperone as her condition, because five pure-blooded children from notable—and very rich—families running around the most famous shopping center in wizarding Britain was a sure disaster waiting to happen.
Lucius Malfoy had chosen to go with the group as well, muttering something about having business at Flourish and Blotts, and separating from the group as soon as they got to their destination.
Before starting the fun, his mother had suggested that Draco should fit his Hogwarts robes early, so they all dropped him off in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions with the promise of picking him up in half an hour.
Draco went inside reluctantly, he had gotten his Hogwarts letter a few days ago, and was to attend the school on the 1st of September, he had no idea why he should fit his Hogwarts robes so early, but he would rather be kissed by a Dementor than refuse Narcissa Malfoy.
A squat, kind looking witch dressed in mauve—Madam Malkin, Draco suspected—greeted him upon entering and ushered him to the back of the shop.
he stood on the footstool provided right as a second witch—a seamstress—started pinning the black robes onto his body without saying a word.
A few minutes in uncomfortable silence passed, and Draco could hear Madam Malkin fussing over another person, and Draco—itching to talk to someone—turned to see a small boy with unruly black hair stepping on the footstool next to him. When he met the grubby boy's eyes, he let out a barely audible gasp at how green they were, Draco had never seen such enchanting eyes before.
“Hello,” Draco said, “Hogwarts, too?”
"Yes,” replied the boy with pretty eyes.
“My friends left me here while they're having fun buying whatever they want and I think my mother's up the street looking at wands,” Draco said, the mention of his friends made him remember how boring this place was.
“I'm probably going to drag them off to look at racing brooms as revenge. They're not as interested in Quidditch as I am. I don't see why first years can't have their own brooms, I'm going to bully Theodore into getting me one and we'll smuggle it in somehow,” Draco realised halfway that he was probably talking the poor boy's ear off, and felt bad.
“Have you got your own broom?” He asked, hoping to keep the conversation equal. “No,” the boy replied, and when Draco asked if he'd played Quidditch the boy also said no, which caused Draco to try and look at the boy more closely.
Gazing hard to try to see behind the black robes being pinned on him, Draco could see muggle clothes and he cursed at himself for being so close-minded. The boy with pretty eyes was a muggleborn.
He had no prejudice against muggleborns, well he used to but that was shot down by a faithful conversation he had with Blaise at breakfast today, and quite thoroughly embarrassed him, so Draco took this as a challenge.
He will wrangle and befriend this muggleborn boy and gloat about it to Blaise and prove he isn't prejudiced. Only… Draco had a small gut feeling that the boy in front of him didn't like him very much.
“Do you know what House you'll be in yet?” He asked, he mentally pat himself on the back for that one. An easy conversation starter, surely anyone with a brain must've contemplated their Hogwarts House already.
“No,” the boy replied. Oh. Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? That's exactly what Draco replied, and added a supporting comment about Slytherin which earned him a “Mmm,” from the other boy. This wasn't going well.
The rest of the conversation didn't go any better; Draco saw a large, scary looking man outside the shop, and the boy said he was the Hogwarts gamekeeper and thought he was brilliant, Draco might've wanted to befriend this boy but that didn't stop him from thinking—well, judging—what an awful judge of character the boy was.
When he asked for the other boy's parents in hopes of changing the subject, he found out they were dead. Great. When he apologized, the boy just looked at him like he didn't believe him, which Draco found insulting and decided to just stay quiet the rest of the fitting.
When Madam Malkin told the boy with pretty eyes that he was done fitting, he seemed eager to leave, which hurt Draco's pride, so—as a final attempt—he called out to him.
When the boy turned, Draco stepped off the footstool to stand in front of him, which earned him a yelp from the seamstress.
“I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” he held out his hand, meeting those pretty green eyes again. “sorry if I sounded a bit rude earlier, I'm not good with new peopl.”
He put on a pleading look, hoping the lie was believable enough, because Draco Malfoy was always good with new people (but the new people he'd meet were never muggleborn, so it probably wasn't the biggest lie ever).
The boy didn't take his hand, so Draco just pat his shoulder instead “I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” he said awkwardly, flashing a small smile. He turned to walk back to the annoyed seamstress before he could hear the boy's reply, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.
When Draco's friends (with the absence of Vince and Greg, who went with his mother to Ollivander’s) came to pick him up from Madam Malkin's, they found him practically pink and melting.
Pansy immediately panicked, asking what on earth caused such a reaction out of him while Blaise and Theo were toppling over their own giggles. Draco rolled his eyes at them and explained his horrible social interaction with the muggleborn boy he met, which caused Blaise and Theo to laugh at him even more.
“If I were that muggleborn, I would've reacted that way too,” Theo exclaimed when they left the shop, laughing and throwing his arm over Draco's shoulders which caused him to tense up. “Shut up, Nott,” Draco muttered as Pansy dragged them to Merlin knows where.
“Relax, Dray. You did your best,” Blaise said next to him, putting his hands in his pockets and looking fondly at Pansy ahead of them.
Draco frowned at him, but didn't comment. Instead, he replied “really?” with a hopeful tone. “No,” Blaise said, with a wide, foxy grin forming on his face which caused Theo to hit him on the head “Don't listen to him, Dray. He's being ridiculous,” Theo laughed, dragging Draco away from Blaise to catch up with Pansy. For once, Draco was glad he came here with his friends.
The next month or so after their day of fun was spent being cooped up at Malfoy Manor, or at least that was how Draco spent his August. He started to make it a habit of reading his friends’ letters, though he still forgot to sometimes and has to be reminded by the elves. Pansy was spending the rest of her summer in France along with Theo, much to the dislike of Blaise, or that was what his letters said.
Blaise was stuck in London with his mother, going to social event after social event because his mother's new husband—probably the fourth one by now—was some famous bloke.
Draco didn't know where Vince and Greg were, they never really shared about their personal lives in letters, but he did know that Greg was getting into a new novel and Vince was spending his days in the kitchen baking, much to the horror of his elves. Draco laughs the most when he reads Theo's letters though, something about Theo's personality tickled him so much. Not to mention his owl was by far the friendliest, always nuzzling up to Draco as he read the contents of Theo's letters.
August made him remember how much he hated letters. He didn't know when the hatred began, but every time he read one he would miss his friends dearly. He hated that their likeness was trapped in parchment. He couldn't see them, nor could he touch them (it's not like he frequently touches his friends in person either, but the thought that he could always do so was comforting.)
So when September rolled around and he got onto platform 9 3⁄4, he ran to hug Pansy and shook Blaise, Vince, Greg and Theo's hands. He didn't tell anyone he almost hugged Theo too, but the look in Greg's eye was knowing.
When they searched the train for an empty compartment, Draco spotted unruly black hair in his periphery, he slid the compartment door open and he met the same pretty eyes he saw at Madam Malkin's “Hey,” Draco's face broke out into a wild grin as the boy's eyes flashed in recognition.
“Can my friends and I sit here? Everywhere else is full,” He lied. They hadn't even searched the train properly, and there were still plenty of kids down at the platform, but he feared the boy would refuse if he didn't lie.
When the boy nodded, Draco pulled the nearest person in—Theo, he realized—and sat in front of him with Theo at his side, the others slowly following. Pansy sat next to Blaise, who was sitting next to the boy, Vince took the seat next to Theo, which meant Greg had to take the floor, much to the amusement of Blaise.
“So you're the guy Draco keeps talking about,” Theo said, breaking the silence. The rest seemed to snap back to reality after gawking at the boy, and Draco swore there was some legilimency taking place because then everyone decided it was ‘embarrass Draco Malfoy’ day.
“Right!” Pansy exclaimed, “He would not shut up about you, it was adorable,” she winked at the boy, causing him to go a bit red. The rest of the compartment nodded and muttered agreements in unison, much to Draco's horror.
“What? No, don't listen to them, they're lying fools,” He said, though it was too late, because now the boy was looking at him weirdly.
The compartment was silent for a while, until it was Greg who broke it from the comfort of the floor. “What's your name?” he asked, looking up at the boy.
“Harry,” the boy—Harry—replied. There was a chorus of “nice to meet you”s and it went back to a pleasant environment of introductions.
Until Blaise spoke up.
“You said your name's Harry, right?” He asked, and when Harry nodded his eyes went slightly wider “You wouldn't happen to be, uh, Harry Potter?”
Draco went impossibly pale and looked toward Harry, he hesitantly nodded and the compartment was suddenly deathly quiet. Theo mumbled something about Salazar and the others snapped, trying—and failing—to pretend they were fine and hide their shock. They were sharing a compartment with the Harry Potter.
Draco felt like an idiot, the boy he talked to wasn't a muggleborn at all, and was actually Harry bloody Potter, and Draco had made a fool of himself at Madam Malkin's! On his birthday, no less! Theo must've sensed his panic, and there was now a comforting hand to his knee. Draco had never been so thankful.
“So Harry, uhm, what house do you think you'll be in?” Pansy—bless her heart—tried to make conversation, but Draco already knew how that would go.
“I don't know,” Harry said, his mouth a thin line. “Could it be that you don't know about the houses?” Blaise chimed in, and Draco could kiss him. Harry nodded and Blaise and Pansy went on a long rant about the houses; Gryffindor being bravery, Slytherin as ambition, Hufflepuff as loyalty, and Ravenclaw as wisdom.
When Pansy made a passing comment that they'll all be in Slytherin, Harry asked her why she thinks so. “Well, because all our families were Slytherins,” she replied, almost defensively and Draco winced at how poorly Harry's question was answered.
“It's what we're expected to be,” Draco said quickly, he didn't want Harry to think negatively of him and his friends. “If we're sorted into anything else, we'd get in loads of trouble. Families like ours aren't open-minded, and they don't see the other houses as good. If I were sorted into, uh, Gryffindor then my father would have my neck.”
“Oh,” Harry said, and for the first time in a while, he looked into Draco's eyes, and Draco found himself holding his breath.
Someone in the compartment coughed, Draco didn't know who, which caused Harry to look away, and Draco was left blinking violently.
“Uhm, Slytherin isn't that bad though, I'm looking forward to being sorted there,” he mumbled, and Vince asked how everyone thinks they'll be sorted, which caused easy discussion to fall on everyone for the rest of the train ride.
Draco woke from his nap with an incredibly painful crick in his neck, it was as if a particularly vengeful ghost twisted it and left him to die. He looked around the compartment, rubbing soothing circles into his neck.
Everyone else was off to dreamland, Greg was snoring on the floor and Draco watched in amusement as Pansy's head was resting on Blaise's shoulder. He looked out the window to see the navy colored surroundings zip by, his eyes landing on Harry in the process.
A small gasp escaped him when he saw Harry staring straight at him, those piercing green eyes boring into him, and Draco pondered if Harry was a legilimens. They both looked at each other, not saying a word. Harry's eyes were travelling all over Draco's figure, but Draco was trained on his eyes.
“Slytherin,” Harry said suddenly, his eyes going back to meet Draco's and Draco frowned. “What?” he asked, their voices were loud against the quiet hum of the train. “I'm going to be in Slytherin,” Harry—much to Draco's shock—gave him a small smile, and Draco couldn't help but smile back, suddenly wishing he didn't choose the seat opposite to Harry, and instead chose to sit next to him.
Draco suddenly had a thought, moving his knees up to his chin—mimicking Harry's position—and hugged them “Harry,” he whispered, so quietly he wondered if Harry even heard it. “Yeah?” Harry whispered back, and Draco fought hard not to smile.
“Harry,” he whispered again.
“Draco,” Harry said along with a quiet laugh.
Draco's stomach did something funny as happiness washed over him. Harry Potter was here talking to him, and he let Draco call him by his first name like they knew each other, like they were friends.
No, they were friends, Draco decided—right now on the train to Hogwarts—that he wouldn't be letting Harry go, not on his watch. Because when they were together they weren't Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, they were just two boys, two boys that met in a robe shop and slightly disliked each other, they were just Harry and Draco, and Draco will fight for it to stay that way.