Chapter Text
“Better be… Slytherin!”
The Slytherin table erupted into a cacophony of noise, some students sounding excited, while the others not so much. Harry Potter, the boy who had inexplicably defeated Voldemort, had just been sorted into Slytherin. It was popular opinion that he was Gryffindor material, so above all the positive and negative feelings, surprise reigned. The stars on the ceiling twinkled as Harry gulped—he’d begged the hat to choose anything other than Slytherin, yet his pleas had been futile. This was just great. Now instead of being in the same house as his newfound friend, he shared the house of his newfound enemy.
Harry got up and reluctantly made his way through the crowd that parted for him as he passed. Murmurs echoed through the air, through the ghosts, even. He scanned the Slytherin table for a secluded enough seat as he avoided everyone’s gaze. He spotted a suitable place to sit near the staff table and made his way over. He sat down and stared up at the students still being sorted, if only to not accidentally lock eyes with anyone, or worse, acknowledge someone nearby. He thought about Malfoy for a second. He really hoped that they wouldn't share a dorm at the very least. Thankfully, he could wait until later to deal with Malfoy. It wasn't like Malfoy would make an effort to walk over right now and bother Harry again, not after Harry had already shut him down. Harry was happy about that, at least.
“Potter.”
Oh, you've got to be joking. Harry’s eyes narrowed fractionally as he tore his gaze away from the ceremony to look over at Malfoy. God, what was Malfoy’s issue? This boy was so presumptuous that it almost made Harry's blood boil… hanging around Dudley seemed like a walk in the park compared to Malfoy, and that was truly saying something.
“What now, Malfoy?” he snapped, already not wanting to engage.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow in surprise, but Harry knew that it was mocking. There was no way that Malfoy was thick enough to think that Harry would want to talk to him.
“Bit snappy, aren't we? Settle down. Why did the hat put you in Slytherin? Was it because you're not brave enough to qualify for Gryffindor?”
Harry’s frown deepened. He knew Malfoy could tell that he just wanted to be alone. That was probably why he'd approached him again in the first place. He knew how boys like Malfoy were; obnoxious, arrogant, and many other words that Harry didn't care to think of.
“I didn't ask to be put here, Malfoy. Do you really think I'd choose to be near you at all?”
“You're awfully touchy, you know that? I mean, God, I was only asking a question.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Dumbledore stood up from his seat and cleared his throat, directing all the students’ attention towards him. As he welcomed everyone, Malfoy sauntered off, which Harry was grateful for. He turned his attention to Dumbledore, who was talking about a corridor being off-limits. Harry briefly wondered why it was closed off, and thought that maybe Dumbledore would elaborate, but that didn't happen.
As Dumbledore went on, Harry looked around, observing his surroundings. A part of him still couldn't believe that this was reality. Floating candles, ghosts, an enchanted ceiling—all of it was so unreal. And to think he almost went to Stonewall High. He looked at the staff table and attempted to commit the various faces to memory. He spent a few seconds briefly examining each one, going down the row until he landed on a foul looking man with greasy black hair. Harry took note of the hooked nose and the black eyes. The man had an intimidating aura, that much was certain. Before Harry could look away, the man suddenly locked eyes with him, expression hardening almost imperceptibly. Harry noticed it, though, the slight shift in the man's features. That didn't seem like a very good sign. Did this professor dislike him already? Harry looked away after a moment, feeling a bit wary.
When dinner ended, a Slytherin prefect guided the first-years to the common room. Harry had to admit, the overall atmosphere was remarkable, with large windows that revealed the murky depths of the Black Lake and elaborate furniture to match. The whole room was tinted green, which Harry wasn't surprised by. Older students were already in the common room, scattered about the sofas and chairs. One thing that did surprise Harry was how unexpectedly lively it was.
The prefect listed everyone's assigned dorms, and Harry came to a sinking realisation—his earlier fear had come true. He had to share a dorm with Malfoy, along with Crabbe, Goyle, and another boy he hadn't seen before. He was the first to enter the dorm, primarily so he could get a bed that wasn't in between any others. Sure, he'd still have to be next to someone, but one was better than two. He'd take what he could get. He claimed a bed near a small window, the furthest from the door. He didn't bother to unpack his trunk yet; he had all the time in the world to do that. Instead, he looked around, familiarising himself with his surroundings. A small yet ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, the sun’s rays catching the crystals, making it sparkle.
Harry turned his attention to the small circular window. It casted a similar hue into the dorm as the one in the common room. He peered through it, watching a school of fish swim by. He lost himself in the view for a moment, enraptured by all the different creatures the Black Lake held. If he could see such an array of creatures through this small window, what else could be out there? Things he didn't know existed yet, most likely.
The door creaked behind him, and he spun around, reality coming back to him instantly. He feared it would be Malfoy, but it wasn't; it was the boy he didn't know. Harry thought his name was Blaise, but he wasn't sure. Neither of them spoke for a moment, choosing to look at each other awkwardly instead. Thankfully, Blaise eventually broke the silence.
“Harry Potter.”
It was still a bit odd, everyone knowing who he was. Harry nodded shortly.
“That's me,” he replied, still trying to gauge if Blaise was like Malfoy or not.
Blaise glanced at the bed Harry had claimed, expression unreadable. Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn't mind silence, but this was different. It was awkward and prolonged, made worse by the fact that he had no clue how Blaise was.
“You chose that one?”
“Er… yeah.”
“Why?”
Great, now Harry was being questioned for his choice of bed. He shrugged, looking back at the bed.
“I dunno, I just picked that one.”
“...Okay.” Blaise shrugged. “I'm Blaise,” he said before adding, “Zabini.”
Harry looked at Blaise again. Okay, so he had gotten his name right. An introduction was a good sign, right? The thought flashed in Harry’s mind before he remembered how Malfoy had introduced himself. Okay, maybe it was more neutral than anything else.
“Good to meet you.” Harry was usually polite unless someone else started something first.
“Same to you,” Blaise replied as he walked over to the bed next to Harry’s.
Maybe that was a good sign. Blaise didn't seem to hate Harry, and he'd even picked the bed next to his… or maybe Harry was just reading into it too much. It was hard not to when he was still trying to figure Blaise out.
The room fell into silence again, but this time, it was more comfortable; bearable, even. Blaise began to unpack his things, and Harry went back to looking out the window. He was happy with the choice he'd made with the bed—he really liked this window. A few minutes passed before the door opened again. Harry didn't turn around immediately this time, because he had a suspicion that he knew who it was. That was confirmed when a voice rang out,
“God, I thought it'd be bigger. Y'know, back at my manor, my bedroom is easily twice the size of this broom closet.”
Harry’s peaceful mood dissipated instantly as he heard Malfoy brag about his big bedroom. Did Malfoy genuinely think anybody cared how big his bedroom was? Well, maybe Crabbe and Goyle did—they were so thick that Harry wouldn't be surprised if they thought Malfoy's room was the coolest thing on the planet.
“Oh, Blaise, you're already in here?”
“Yes.”
Harry glanced away from the window to look over at Malfoy and Blaise. Malfoy already knew Blaise? He mentally filed that bit of information.
“Oi, Potter! Who told you that you could have the best bed?”
Couldn't Malfoy just leave Harry alone one time when they were near each other? Harry glared at Malfoy, this time more blatantly than he had in the Great Hall earlier.
“I didn't realise it had your name on it, Malfoy.”
“Might as well be there,” Malfoy said indignantly.
Malfoy seriously couldn't get any more insufferable.
“Yeah, but it's not. Maybe don't be the last to get somewhere next time.”
“Excuse me? Just because you raced here doesn't mean I was last! Technically, I was third, since Crabbe and Goyle were behind me when I walked in.”
Harry was about to make a retort, but Blaise spoke before Harry could.
“You're really going to argue over a bed, Draco?”
Malfoy and Harry both turned to look at Blaise at the same time.
“It's not about the bed! It's about him being wrong!”
“You weren't last, sure, but you weren't first either. He was. All the beds are the same anyway, why does it even matter?”
Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times before replying lamely,
“Shut up, Blaise. It doesn't matter.”
“Then stop going on about it.”
“You're going on about it!”
Blaise sighed heavily and withdrew from the conversation, going back to unpacking his things. Malfoy glared at Harry before frustratedly going over to the bed next to Blaise’s.
“Dorm full of idiots,” Malfoy muttered under his breath, earning annoyed looks from Harry and Blaise, and offended ones from Crabbe and Goyle.
Yeah, there were three idiots in the dorm, alright, but Harry knew he wasn't one, and he didn't think Blaise was one either, from what he knew about the boy so far.
The dorm was silent, save for soft snoring coming from the direction of Crabbe’s bed. Everyone was asleep—everyone except for Harry, that is. He found himself unable to sleep, mind racing too much to even attempt to rest. Sure, he'd been told that many other students wouldn't know anything about magic either, but Harry was still nervous for his first day of classes. What if he made a fool out of himself? What if he didn't make a good impression on the professors? He knew they'd have high expectations for him, since he was… well, Harry Potter.
He wondered what Ron was doing. Sleeping, most likely. He didn't think Ron would be nervous for his first day of classes, since Ron already knew a lot about magic—at least, way more than Harry did. He wondered if Ron made any Gryffindor friends yet. Harry hadn't even talked to Ron since they'd gotten sorted. What if, since Harry got sorted into Slytherin, Ron wouldn't want to be his friend anymore? It hurt to even think about, but Harry knew that there was a chance, considering the way Ron had talked about Slytherins. He wished he'd been sorted into Gryffindor with Ron. They'd probably be in the same dorm if that had happened. But no, instead, Harry had to spend the next seven years cooped up with Draco Malfoy and his goons. Well, Blaise wasn't bad so far. He'd definitely been the most cordial toward Harry than anyone else in the dorm.
He missed Ron.