Draco's jaw unhinged when he recognized the broom-shaped package in front of him that next morning.

"What on earth would McGonagall have gotten me a broom for?" he asked as he looked over the card, rolling his eyes at the warning not to open it at the table, as though everyone couldn't see exactly what he'd been given. "Why wouldn't she assume I could buy my own?"

"I don't think she'd expect your father to pay for anything that'd help you beat Slytherin," suggested Ron.

"That… actually makes sense." Draco wrinkled his nose. "Too bad she doesn't realize I've got five million in a private account; it's nothing compared to my father's fortune, but he thought it'd be good for me to learn to manage money early. Thank Merlin, if I ever get disinherited-" He noticed that Ron and the twins were looking at him with something between awe and disgust, and quickly returned his attention to the broom. "Anyway, the card says it's a Nimbus 2000."

Ron groaned. "I've never even touched one."

"Well, c'mon then," said Draco. "We'll go out to the pitch, and-"

The sound of rubies pouring into Gryffindor's point counter cut him off. He looked at the hourglass, lips twitching when he realized what the sudden influx of gems meant.

"Fifty more points," Ron said, eyes wide.

"You don't think-"

"Sirius Black is innocent!" said Percy suddenly, holding up a freshly unrolled copy of the Daily Prophet. As the other students examined their post, identical exclamations broke out across the Great Hall. Percy was already sharing his paper with several older students, so Draco looked around to see anyone else who might have one he could borrow. He hesitated when he saw Hermione Granger first—he didn't doubt that she'd be irritating about it if he asked her for a favor—but his curiosity was strong enough that he wriggled out of his seat and plopped down next to her.

"Can I read over your shoulder?" he asked.

She eyed him warily, but after a short hesitation said, to his surprise, "If you'd like."

She shifted the paper so he could read it better, and Draco began to scan the article. Apparently Pettigrew had been taken to the Ministry for questioning immediately after Draco had apprehended him. The presence of his Dark Mark, along with Veritaserum-aided questioning were considered evidence enough to convict him of every crime that'd originally been attributed to Sirius Black. He'd already been sentenced to the Dementor's kiss, likely in the Ministry's attempt to overcompensate for blaming Sirius the first time. Sirius Black had been scheduled for release earlier that morning, and he was due to receive a hefty sum of galleons for his troubles.

Draco couldn't find much concrete information beyond that; the rest of the article was a lot of backpedaling and apologizing and going on about how Peter had been so cunning and sneaky that it was no surprise they hadn't been able to catch him.

Honestly, it was about what he'd expected. The only part that really caught him off guard was that when his name was mentioned, the reporter brought up his parents and noted that they'd both refused to comment on their son's 'heroism.'

Between that and neither of them having replied to his initial letter, Draco was relatively sure that they were pretending he didn't exist. It hurt, but he'd been expecting it enough that he was able to more or less ignore the way his heart twinged at the reality of what was already happening between him and his parents.

"Well then," said Draco, tearing his eyes forcefully from the 'refuse to comment' line. "I guess that's that. Thanks Gra- Hermione."

She cleared her throat and said, slightly awkwardly, "Shouldn't you be more excited? You were mentioned in the Daily Prophet, after all."

"I suppose the recognition is rather nice, but the article is merely confirmation of how I expected everything to go." He shrugged. "I'm really more excited about trying out my new broom with Ron."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and the cautious interest that'd been present in her expression faded to irritation. "Ah, yes. Your reward for breaking the rules."

Draco wanted to bang his head on the table. And here he'd been so close to making it through a civil conversation with her.

"No, my reward for being a Quidditch prodigy," he said, trying and failing to keep condescension from slipping into his voice. "If I would've crashed or broken something, I imagine I would've gotten detention. I only got a broom and a spot on the team because I was extremely good."

Her eyes flashed indignantly. "Don't be so flippant. You could have been killed. Madam Hooch told us not to get on our brooms for a reason, Malfoy."

"Draco," he corrected, as he'd gotten into the habit of doing lately. "And Madam Hooch told a class of people with little flying experience not to get on their brooms. I've been flying since I was very small. I knew what I was doing, so it wasn't dangerous. That subverted the whole purpose of listening to her warning."

"That's just ridiculous!"

"No, ridiculous is you getting so worked up about this," Draco drawled. "A normal person wouldn't think twice about this sort of thing. Actually, a normal person would congratulate me for elevating the talent level of our Quidditch team. Gryffindor hasn't won the Cup since Charlie Weasley graduated. I'd figure a fellow Gryffindor such as yourself would want to change that."

Hermione spluttered. "That's just—Ugh! I already have the feeling I'll greatly dislike Quidditch. I don't understand people's fascination with sports. They're so pointless. It's like my father and football."

Draco frowned. "I'm not sure what football is, but if it's anything like Quidditch, I'd imagine it's enjoyable."

"It's a Muggle sport," Hermione explained cautiously, sounding as though she expected him to lash out in response to the information. He tried not to roll his eyes.

"Ah. Perhaps Dean knows about it." He resolved to ask the other boy later. "Anyway, it's nice that you've calmed down, but I believe that Ron is getting impatient. I'll see you later, Hermione. Thanks again for letting me borrow that paper."

She blinked, very clearly not having expected that. "Um. You're welcome... Draco."

He smiled at her one last time, then headed back over to Ron and picked up his broom, winking at McGonagall as he and his friend headed out to take a few turns around the pitch.

…

"Check," said Draco absently, brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the board in front of him. It was embarrassing how difficult he was finding it to best Ron at chess. Never mind that he had seventeen years of other Draco's knowledge in his head. His father had taught him how to employ the use of Slytherin cunning since he was a very small child. Beating the through-and-through Gryffindor at a game of strategy should have been easy.

Instead, the redhead apparently had a secret talent for chess, and Draco was pathetically unable to pull out ahead.

"Oh, bad move, mate," said Ron when Draco advanced one of his pawns. He moved his queen diagonally several squares, and Draco's heart plummeted when he realized that he'd landed himself in an impossible situation. "Check."

He gritted his teeth and moved his king backwards one space; the only move he could make with things as they were. Ron laughed triumphantly and cornered the king with his rook.

"And that's-"

"Mister Malfoy!" Draco jerked his head up to see McGonagall standing at the entrance to the portrait hole, face impassive as always. "You're to report to the Headmaster's office this instant. Someone would like to speak with you."

Relived as he was that Ron's imminent victory had been interrupted, Draco still tensed, blood draining from his face. Given the article in the Prophet that morning, he wouldn't be surprised if his father had come to have a talk with him about his disgraceful behavior.

He slowly got to his feet, knees shaking just a little as he made his way over to his Head of House. She glanced at him, lips pursed as though unsure whether she should say anything, but eventually said softly, "It has nothing to do with your parents, Draco."

He released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Oh, alright." A smile twitched at his lips as he followed his professor. "Then who is it?"

"I believe he'd rather it be a surprise."

Draco nodded, although he still didn't have much idea of who'd want to visit him outside of his own immediate family. He had the barest hint of a suspicion, but dismissed it immediately. Sirius Black might've been free, but if he'd come to Hogwarts, he would want to visit Harry. Not Draco.

Given such thoughts, he was surprised to see the vaguely familiar figure of his second-cousin standing in front of the Headmaster's desk when he reached Dumbledore's office. The man's cheeks were gaunt, his skin slightly too pale, but he didn't look like a raving madman either. He'd obviously taken care to clean himself up, as his robes were expertly tailored and his hair freshly trimmed if not somewhat mussed.

"Sirius Black," said Draco when his eyes locked with the older man's. He hesitated a moment, searching for something to say. Finally he settled on a somewhat formal, "You're looking quite well."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Ah, such a polite boy," he said. "I suppose you haven't had much time to develop your Gryffindor spirit yet, although Minnie over here tells me you've got the rule-breaking down. That was a brilliant stunt you pulled with your broom."

Draco beamed, both at the praise and at the look on McGonagall's face. "Sirius Black!"

"Oh, shush. Look, I made the kid's day."

"She thinks I put myself in danger," said Draco. "I really had everything under control."

"Of course you did. And now you're the youngest seeker in half a century. Utterly brilliant." He took a step closer, looking at Draco appreciatively. "Then again, you seem to be a pretty special kid all around. I'm told I have you to thank for my freedom."

He ducked his head, cheeks pinking slightly. "I guess I had something to do with it. It was just luck, really."

"It was marvelous," said Sirius. Draco almost jumped out of his skin when he found himself suddenly wrapped up in a tight embrace, not having expected that Sirius Black would actually hug him. He wasn't sure how to react for a moment, but then something in him loosened at the sensation of having strong arms around him, of a soothing male voice telling him that he was brilliant, that he'd done well. Things he'd wanted from his father, he was now being given by a virtual stranger. By a blood traitor and a disinherited disgrace to his mother's family, and a man who'd been thought a murderer for years.

Somehow, none of that made much difference at all. Tears welled in Draco's eyes, though he wasn't sure out of happiness at the magnificent hug or bitterness that it wasn't his father giving it to him. Sniffling, he buried his face in Sirius's chest, not letting him pull away until he was sure that his features were under control once more.

"I… Thank you," said Draco embarrassedly.

"No, thank you. I was going mad there, Draco. I don't know if I would have lasted much longer." The others in the room both looked guilty at that, which gave Draco some satisfaction. They should look guilty. What sort of people locked away a man without a trial, especially someone who hadn't shown anything besides loyalty towards the Potters before?

It was a sign of how corrupt things had been, that his father had gotten off scot-free, while an innocent man had been locked away without anyone questioning it.

"Well, I'm glad you're out." Draco cleared his throat. "And… thank you for seeing me. We're not close family, but my parents haven't been talking to me, so…"

"It's nice, having someone to be there," Sirius finished softly. He put a hand over Draco's. "I can understand that."

And suddenly, Draco realized that he really could. He hadn't thought much of it before, but his situation was remarkably similar to Sirius Black's. Or well, perhaps not so much in details, but the generalities were the same. While Draco didn't like some of the things he'd heard about the man, he couldn't help but think that maybe he could find so much more than a place to live should he convince Sirius Black to take him in.

The former convict would be able to empathize with him in a way that Draco wasn't sure anyone else could.

"You really do," murmured Draco with some amazement.

"Of course. It's why I asked to speak with you, actually. Not just to thank you for saving me, but I wanted to let you know that if you need anything, even if it's just someone to write to, I'd be glad to help. I owe you, yes, but you're also family. Little as that's meant to me in the past, I believe that it might be significant in this instance."

Draco swallowed heavily. "T-thank you, sir."

"Sirius," he said. "Please, call me Sirius."

"Can I siriusly?"

McGonagall groaned, Dumbledore chuckled, and Sirius laughed another one of his big, hearty laughs. "Oh, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Draco."

"I'd like that," said Draco eagerly. He suddenly remembered Harry, and his face fell with the realization that he was possibly taking away from his friend's relationship with his godfather. "But… um, only if you have time to be friends with both me and Harry Potter. See, he doesn't have anyone else, and I know he's a Slytherin, but-"

Sirius held up a hand, his dark eyes warm. "I've already talked to him. Don't worry. I have plenty of time to be friends to both of you. Friends... and family, if either of you have need of it."

Draco sighed in relief. "Good."

"Now, I have to get to an appointment at Gringotts—I'm trying to seize all the Black family assets that had been taken away after the last war—but perhaps I can see you again sometime soon… For your first quidditch match, perhaps?"

As un-Malfoy of a thing as it was to do, Draco couldn't hold back an enormous smile at the suggestion. "Oh, that'd be brilliant, Sirius. You really think you can come?"

Sirius gave Draco another hug, this one more playful than the last. "I'll make sure of it."

The dark-haired man was just stepping away when the door to Dumbledore's office opened. Severus Snape strode into the room, mouth open as if to speak, when his eyes landed on where Sirius and Draco had obviously been hugging. Draco's godfather clamped his mouth shut, face becoming an impassive mask even as Draco caught a quickly-repressed glimmer of hurt in the older man's eyes.

Draco couldn't move, he was so afraid of how the inevitable confrontation would play out.

"Black," drawled Snape, the word falling from his lips like a curse. "What could be so important that you've torn yourself from your hordes of admirers?"

"Come now, Snivellus. You can't be jealous of the attention I've received for being left to rot in Azkaban for ten years," Sirius said. He attempted to feign playfulness, but failed utterly at keeping the venom out of his voice. "I imagine you're simply disappointed that I got out, but that's sick even for you."

"Given that you tried to murder me-"

"Was there something you needed, Severus?" Dumbledore cut in, sounding even calmer than usual in the unnatural tension of the room.

"I merely wished to discuss the You-Know-What," said Snape, his eyes not leaving Sirius. Draco perked up at the mention of what must've been the Philosopher's Stone, but nothing more was said before his godfather added, "It can wait," and stormed off in a flurry of billowing black robes.

Draco's heart clenched painfully. "Oh, he's never going to talk to me again."

"I don't see why you'd want the greasy git to talk to you. He's-" Sirius cut himself off at the looks on the others' faces. "What? Am I missing something?"

"He's my godfather," Draco muttered. He looked at Sirius imploringly. "Don't say awful things about him. He's really not so bad."

Sirius stared at him incredulously. "But it's Snape."

"He did a lot of brave things during the war," said Draco. "That's what I've heard anyway. He's grumpy, but he has a lot of reasons to be. Please, don't make me choose between getting to know some of the only family I can be myself around, and my own godfather. Just… be decent."

Sirius gawped for a moment, as though unwilling to believe that Snape could be the godfather of anyone, let alone a Gryffindor, but he soon wilted under the weight of Draco's gaze. "I probably won't see much of him, but if we do run into one another, I'll be decent, as you put it." He snorted in an extremely undignified manner. "I'm supposedly a grown man. I can be an adult about this."

Draco wasn't so certain, not having felt the tension between the two of them in even those few seconds, but he'd just have to take Sirius's word on the matter.

"Thanks, Sirius. And I'll be sure to write soon." He nodded to Dumbledore and McGonagall, murmuring, "Headmaster," and "Professor," respectively, then took off to find somewhere where he could be alone. He needed a bit of silence to work through his now jumbled thoughts- namely, to decide how in Merlin's name he was supposed to handle things with Professor Snape.

…

"It was Sirius Black," Draco told Ron and Neville when he returned to the common room later that evening. He leaned a bit closer to both of them, knowing that he'd have everyone in Gryffindor listening in if he mentioned having met with who was currently a rather famous figure. "He told me I was family, and that I can write him whenever I want."

"That's great, Draco," said Neville, the look on his face saying that he knew very well that Draco hadn't been getting letters from anyone else.

"What's he like?" asked Ron.

"Oh, I don't know. We didn't talk for very long, but he was nice enough. I got the impression that he likes to laugh though. He's fair, too. He talked to Harry before I got there, and said that he'd like being friends with both of us. I don't know what he thought of his godson being in Slytherin, but he didn't seem too upset about it."

Ron wrinkled his nose—it concerned Draco that he hadn't quite gotten over his distaste for Harry's house—but Neville smiled. "I'm glad you seemed to like him."

"I really do," said Draco. He sighed. "I just wish that liking him didn't upset anyone."

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked. "Everyone knows he's innocent, so I don't see why anyone would care."

Draco shook his head. "It's not about that. It's… well, Professor Snape walked in when Sirius was hugging me, and I think he felt a bit betrayed by it. They were rivals in school—Sirius bullied him, actually—and… I don't know if Snape's going to be able to handle it if I get close to someone who made life so difficult for him before." He hesitated before going on, not used to sharing such personal stuff, but both Ron and Neville were listening intently, sympathy apparent in their eyes. Somewhat reassured, Draco added, "Snape is an old family friend, and I've known him for most of my life, but… Sirius is the closest thing to family I'll have if my parents don't change the way they think. I'll regret it if I don't give myself a chance to get to know him."

Neville smiled reassuringly, and Ron tossed a comforting arm over Draco's shoulders. "I think it's sad that they're still upset about stuff that happened years ago," said Neville.

"Especially Snape," Ron added. "I mean, Sirius spent all those years in Azkaban when he wasn't even guilty. I don't see what the greasy git has to complain about."

"Don't call him that," Draco corrected automatically.

Ron had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry, but I still think I'm right. If Snape wants to be bitter, that's his problem. It's not like you're doing anything to him. I mean, he probably won't even notice you and Sirius talking unless he sticks his enormous nose where it doesn't belong."

"Please, Ron. Stop insulting his appearance. He can't help the nose, and the grease is from potions fumes. It's not nearly as bad if you see him over the holidays." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ward off a headache. "And I can't just stop talking to him. I like Professor Snape. When he respects you, he's a really good friend to have. It's just… What if he doesn't respect me anymore? He already had a tough time with me being in Gryffindor, and now Sirius Black is talking about coming to my Quidditch matches, and Snape caught him hugging me… and maybe he doesn't think I'm worth his respect anymore."

The fear sounded childish even to his own ears, but it was legitimate all the same. For all the friends he'd made at Hogwarts, he was due to lose his mother and father at the very least, likely before the year was out. He hadn't considered asking Snape if he could live with him, not when it would raise questions if Voldemort ever did come back, and not given that he didn't think the potions master would be all that eager to take in an eleven-year-old boy in any case, but he did still see the professor as an uncle of sorts, and he didn't want to lose that.

But he also didn't want to lose the chance to become closer to Sirius. Not when his cousin understood about being in Gryffindor and disagreeing with family, and especially not when Draco had already decided that convincing Sirius to take him in for the summers was his best shot at having a place to call home after he (inevitably) got disowned.

He needed both men, and knowing that their hatred for each other might always have him at odds with one of them scared him.

"If he lets something so tiny chase him off, then he's not worth it," said Ron.

Draco shook his head. "But-"

"But nothing," said Neville, more firmly than Draco would have expected from him. "If Professor Snape quits talking to you when you haven't done anything wrong, then it's not your fault. It's his."

Draco looked between the two of them, surprised at the conviction in their eyes. It shocked him into something close to a smile. "Well, um… thanks, I guess."

"Gryffindors are known for our loyalty, y'know," said Ron. "We stand by our own."

He had known, but only superficially. Seeing evidence of that dedication was something else entirely. Choked up with emotion, he could only nod his thanks to each of his friends before he awkwardly cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Well, now enough of that. Anyone want to sneak down to the kitchens? I missed supper, so I'm famished."

"You know how to get to the kitchens?" asked Ron, something almost akin to hero-worship in his eyes.

"I dunno if we should. We'll lose points if we're caught…" said Neville.

"Then we best not get caught," said Draco. "Besides, we've got a hundred-something point lead. I don't think we have anything to worry about even if we do lose a point or two."

"House Elves cook the food," Ron added, "and I bet they'll make you anything you want. Even pumpkin pasties."

Neville's conviction wavered, and Draco knew they had him. Still, he couldn't help but add, "Besides, we're Gryffindors. Doing impulsive, foolhardy things is like part of our code or something."

"Fine," Neville muttered. "But if we get in trouble…"

"You can blame my evil Malfoy influence," said Draco, waving him off. "Now c'mon. I'm dying for a sandwich."

…

"Um, D-Draco…" Ron spluttered, staring at the snarling three-headed dog that stood across from them. "When you said you were dying for a sandwich, I didn't think this is what you meant!"

Draco swallowed heavily. His other self had never come face to face with the creature, although he'd heard mention of it near the end of his first year. He really should have expected to run into the thing somewhere along the line, now that he'd put himself in the middle of all this 'stopping Voldemort' business, but he was still shocked that it was so soon and in such an unexpected manner.

"Yeah, well," Draco hissed. "I wasn't expecting Mrs. Norris chase us onto a bloody moving staircase, and-" He cut himself off as the dog started moving forward. "And how about let's argue about this later?"

The others didn't need to be told twice. They tore out of the room and sprinted all the way back to Gryffindor tower. When they finally slipped back through the portrait hole, huffing and clutching at their aching sides, the reality of what'd happened finally sunk in and all three of them collapsed to the ground in shock.

"That was a three-headed dog," Neville panted.

"A Cerberus," corrected Draco.

"I didn't think Dumbledore was serious about anyone who went to the corridor dying a horrible, painful death," gasped Ron.

"Merlin, I hadn't even realized where we were," Draco added. "If I'd have known, I would have taken the detention."

They all sat for a moment, trying to get their breathing under control. After several minutes of passed, Ron ventured hesitantly, "Why do you think there's a Cerberus at the school?"

"I think it was protecting something. I'm pretty sure I saw a trapdoor underneath," said Draco; his other half hadn't known that, had only a vague idea of what'd happened with everything the first time around, but Draco had caught a glimpse of the door himself, and the reasoning skills he'd picked up from his future self had already helped him put a lot of pieces into place. Quirrell, who'd apparently had the Dark Lord on the back of his head, had tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone from Hogwarts. Fluffy the three-headed dog was protecting something.

Draco imagined that the Stone was just the sort of thing that Dumbledore would bring a three-headed dog in to protect. He also expected that the dog was only the first level of protection; there was no way that something so precious wasn't guarded by multiple deterrents.

Of course, he couldn't say any of this to Ron and Neville, as he really didn't think they could handle it. He'd need to reveal information gradually, working up to it piece by piece. He'd also have to figure out how to get Harry involved, and possibly Hermione, not to mention decide when and where to act. He had a few ideas outlined in the notebook he'd worked on throughout the summer, but nothing concrete. He'd known too little about the events of his first year to make any set plans.

"You took the time to see a trapdoor?" said Ron incredulously, and Draco returned his focus to the conversation. "You mean, while it was charging at us?!"

"My father taught me to always be observant," said Draco. They both gawped at him, and Draco waved off their disbelief. "But that's not important. What's important is that Dumbledore is hiding something at Hogwarts. Something that he clearly doesn't want found."

"Why Hogwarts? Wouldn't Gringotts be safer?" asked Ron.

"There was a break-in there," said Neville.

"Oh, yeah," said Draco, a smirk stretching across his lips at his friend's observation. "But the vault was empty, remember? I bet Dumbledore knew it wasn't going to be safe much longer, so he took it out and brought it here so he can keep an eye on it." He frowned. "Where hundreds of students could be hurt by whatever tries to take it."

"Maybe it's important enough that it doesn't matter," said Ron.

"What could be that important?" asked Neville.

"I don't know," said Draco. "But I think we ought to keep our eyes open, just in case something big happens." He paused, but added, "It'd also be a good idea to keep this to ourselves."

"It does sound like the sort of thing that should be a secret," Neville agreed.

"Right," said Draco. "But if either of you picks up more information, you have to promise to share. Got it?"

Ron and Neville nodded, and Draco released a shaky breath.

Things were starting, and Merlin, did that knowledge terrify him.

…

Potions the next day was hell.

"Potter, Malfoy, what in Merlin's name is that sludge?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's a perfectly brewed nutrient potion, sir."

Snape's nostrils flared. "It's too dense-"

"Just like you and Sirius Black," Draco muttered, unable to help himself. Of course, with his 'bat-like hearing,' Snape heard and pinned him with a terrifying glare.

"What was that, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco looked up and met his professor's eyes, nearly screaming with his thoughts so that Snape didn't have much choice but to pick them up with Legillimancy. I said that you and Sirius are dense. As in, you're too stupid to see things that should be obvious. Like that holding childhood grudges into your adult life is ridiculous, and that you're hurting the people who care about you by being unable to let them go. Bloody immature arseholes.

He smiled innocently, and said out loud, "Nothing, Professor."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for cheek-"

"Professor!" Harry protested. "He didn't say anything, and the potion is perfect. It's just like the book says it's supposed to look. If you're going to insult somebody's, look at Crabbe and Goyle's!"

"Ten points-" Snape cut himself off, and said instead. "Detention, Potter. I have no time for your sniveling arrogance. I think I know better than you what a decently brewed potion looks like, and your pitiful excuse for a finished product would better serve as poison than anything." He sneered at the cauldron. "Then again, if I'm forced to deal with your brazen idiocy any longer, I might choose to consume it regardless."

Harry looked devastated, and Draco realized with a start that it was the first time Snape had treated him with true animosity in this go around. The man hadn't been kind by any means, but he'd projected an air of careful indifference that might have occasionally bordered on fondness.

For that to be taken away so suddenly obviously jarred the dark-haired boy.

"P-Professor?" Harry stuttered, a tremor in his voice.

Snape turned on a heel and barked at the rest of the class, "Your time is up. Turn in your potions."

Draco seethed silently as the rest of the class gathered their things. Daphne and Blaise both showed up to comfort Harry, both of them glaring at Snape as they escorted the Boy-Who-Lived from the room. Draco watched them go, then waved off Ron and Neville; he needed to talk to his godfather in private.

"Mister Malfoy, I have class soon." The professor didn't bother looking at him.

"This will only take a moment," said Draco. He picked up his bag and strode over to Snape, heart pounding against his chest as he placed himself directly in front of the Slytherin Head of House. "I've heard rumors of how Sirius Black treated you throughout your schooling-"

"That is none of your business, you insolent-"

Draco puffed out his chest. "No. Let me speak," he snapped. He took a deep breath and went on before Snape could recover from his surprise. "I know Sirius was in the wrong, and that he did things he shouldn't have, but people change. He's been in Azkaban for ten years. You can't say that he wasn't punished more than enough."

A biting venom that only could've been borrowed from the other Draco seeped into his voice as he gathered just enough courage to look Snape right in the eye, an almost shockingly mature disgust churning in his gut. "But even if you're still bitter," he went on. "Hell, even if you still think it's okay to get mad at me for wanting to talk to him, that isn't any excuse for you to take it out on Harry. I don't know if you've noticed, but he's been trying to gain your approval from the second he stepped into Hogwarts! That's one of the reasons he's in Slytherin—he asked the Hat because I told him you'd known his mother, and he wanted to be closer to one of her old friends. He's been working his arse off for your respect, and I thought maybe it was working. But just now, you were awful to him because he pointed out that you were being awful to me, and I can't imagine it was for any reason other than his recent meeting with Sirius Black, who happens to be one of the only people he knows who might really care for him. That's sick, and you really hurt him! I know picking on children gives you some sort of perverse pleasure, but really it's just pathetic. It's something I'd expect from my father. Not from you."

He exhaled slowly, and then added even more softly, in a low, dangerous voice that was a mirror of Snape at his most terrifying, "No matter how terribly James Potter and Sirius Black treated you, you were their age- you could fight back. Harry is eleven, and you are an adult. If you can't see how much more disgusting that makes you than they ever were... well, I only hope that Harry will be smart enough to realize that you're a lost cause, because I don't want you to hurt my friend any more than you already have."

Draco didn't give Snape the chance to speak; instead, he turned on a heel and strode purposely from the room, taking care not to look back for fear of what he'd see on his godfather's face.

"What did he do?" Ron breathed when Draco came out. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"He's going to kill me," Draco muttered. "Why did I act like such a bloody Gryffindor?" He took a shaking breath. "Oh, Merlin. He's going to kill me."

"Draco…"

"I said that he was pathetic, and cruel, and compared him to my father."

Ron blinked. "That's not good."

"You think I don't know that? I never would have done that before. Being in this house is rotting my brain. I'm becoming stupid."

"Does it help that I have an insane amount of respect for you right now?"

Draco glared. "Not when I know I'm going to have detentions for the rest of the year. For the rest of my schooling. Hell, for the rest of my life."

"Surely it won't be that bad," said Ron.

Of course, the redhead's optimism fell flat. At dinner that evening, Draco got a letter from Snape saying that he had two-hour detentions every other weekday until Christmas. There were also twenty points missing from the Gryffindor counter.

The only positive of the evening was that the potions professor was blissfully absent.

...

Author's Note:

Yay. A long chapter, with lots of things happening. Some real Draco/Hermione interaction, more Ron/Neville/Draco friendship, and a hint of plot. Plus, the introduction of Sirius Black and a dressing down of Snape. I was a bit unsure of the last bit because child Draco never would have talked to his godfather like that, but I do think future Draco's influence could have pushed him into it. After all, Draco has never had patience for the flaws of others, and I don't imagine that an older, more jaded version of himself would put up with Snape's behavior when it would cause so many problems in the future. Combine that lack of willingness to put up with a twenty-year-old grudge with the younger Draco's frustration and susceptibility to losing his temper, and I could see a very dramatic tantrum taking place.

Of course, next chapter we'll get to see what Snape thinks about it, which should be loads of fun. And I'm thinking it's got to be about time for Halloween as well...

Anyway, thanks for all your comments so far; I really appreciate the feedback. As always, please tell me what you think.