Disclaimer: No, not mine.

A/N: Okay, this is chapter one. It's very short, but the next one will be longer.

There still isn't much story development here, as I'm getting used to the characters, but this is shaping out to be a looong fanfic. So please, bear with me.

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Chapter 1 – New People, indeed.

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"If you can't bite, don't show your teeth."

                                    -Yiddish Proverb

Harry walked along with Scott, a seemingly nice (if somewhat waifish) young man. The two had already seen the library, dorms and many of the other buildings, making nice conversation along the way.

"So you transferred here? This must be quite a change from Surrey."

Harry nodded, absently observing the other students they passed during the tour. "It is. It's a welcome change though."

"I think you'll like it here. There's tons of things to do, or…so I've heard. What's your first class?"

Harry glanced at the schedule in his hand. "It's a debate class. I didn't ask for it though…I may have to drop that one."

Scott turned to him, scratching at his head of chestnut hair. "May I see?"

Harry handed him the slip of paper and watched him look over the list.

"I have that class with you. It's not so bad…if you sit in the back and manage not to say anything."

The raven haired boy chuckled, taking the schedule back. "Why would you not say anything in a debate class? Doesn't that defeat the point?"

Scott laughed. "I suppose it does…but it beats being yelled at. Some of the subjects in there get pretty intense."

As they walked, Harry noticed an old man – his clothes worn and tattered. The old man smiled at him, his eyes twinkling from behind half-moon spectacles. He sat contentedly on a bench, feeding the birds.

"Who is that?"

Scott gave the old man an inelegant smile and a polite wave. "That's Albus. He sits here nearly every day…feeding the birds. No one really knows much about him, but he's always nice enough. I think he sleeps somewhere near here; the staff just lets it go – he's just a harmless crazy old man."

"Oh" Harry replied lamely, before turning away from the kind old face smiling at him.

An awkward sort of silence befell the two young men. They continued to walk quietly until Harry spoke up, needing a nagging question answered. "I take it you don't get out much, then? I mean…you said there was a ton of stuff to do, but you sounded like you never actually *do* any of it."

The other boy blushed bit, shoving his hands into his pockets. "School keeps me pretty busy and I'm…not so good with people."

Harry smiled. "Well I think you've done all right so far. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Scott looked a bit irritated at the mention and Harry wished he hadn't said anything. "I *had* one but…well…we broke up."

Harry was just about to ask how, nosey bugger that he was, when s sight in the distance caught his attention. "Hey…what's that?"

Harry pointed over to the patch of green in the distance. They had yet to see any of the sports fields, and although it looked like his schedule would not permit such extracurricular activities, he was interested nonetheless.

"That's the sports field. We can go look if you want to – " he glanced at his watch " – none of the teams should be practicing right now."

Harry nodded and pulled his pants up at the waist before continuing forward. He hated wearing Dudley's old clothes – they were too big and many of the shirts were too tacky for his tastes. However, he hadn't taken the time to shop for any new ones.

As they approached the field, the sound of shouting voices carried over to Harry. Upon closer inspection, he realized that a group of boys were playing soccer. He stopped and watched them, interested. Scott was obviously nervous about standing around and fidgeted with his hands buried in his pockets. The game was rough, and many of the boys were covered in grass stains made worse by the wet ground from the rain earlier in the day. The group was made up of friends, as far as Harry could tell from their very male way of insulting each other in a friendly manner. He took notice of several players, having played the game for many years himself. But one in particular caught his eye. He was a tall young man, with platinum blonde hair that dripped with sweat and hung into his eyes. Harry couldn't tell much about him from his position, but he seemed to be the driving force on the field. His curiosity getting the better of him, he turned to Scott.

"Who's that guy?" He asked, pointing to the boy.

Scott looked a bit nervous. "The blonde?" he asked too quietly, as if the other boy might hear him.

Harry nodded.

Even quieter than before, Scott leaned in towards Harry, almost whispering. "That's Draco Malfoy. He's a right prat, that one. His father's a big name in the politics around here…so he does pretty much whatever he wants. Stay away from him he's…scary."

Harry's eyes widened, intrigued. "Scary? He doesn't look scary. He's a prat, you say?"

Scott nodded with a pained look. "He stole my girlfriend…and he doesn't even like girls!"

In spite of the anguish he heard in his new friend's voice, Harry found himself laughing. "So that's what happened, eh? I was – "

Whatever Harry had been about to say was abruptly cut off as the soccer ball the boys had been playing with came rolling towards his feet. Using his reflexes, Harry shifted his weight to stop it with his foot. Before he could kick it back, a voice – smooth and drawling with an aristocratic air came floating over to him.

"Dixon! Be a good girl and kick it back!"

Harry wasn't sure exactly what about the comment had provoked him, but he felt his eyes narrow and when he looked over to see Scott, flustered and embarrassed he dropped his bag to the ground, with the ball still underneath his foot.

The young blonde man came running up towards them and although he was covered in sweat and grass Harry immediately saw just exactly what Scott had been talking about. He was gorgeous, no doubt about that. Harry had never been one to deny that he could see the beauty in other men, although it never went beyond a simple aesthetic appreciation. He had a physique much like Harry's own – slim and toned – although he was much paler than Harry. As he approached, Harry still couldn't tell too much about him, other than that he was every bit the bastard Scott had made him out to be.

"You, new guy!" Draco called "Are you going to give that back to me or just stand there uselessly like your friend Dixon?"

Not sparing a thought to reply, Harry shifted the ball with his feet, positioning it in front of him. He reared his leg back a bit and kicked forward, sending the ball at a fierce speed…directly into Draco Malfoy's face.

Before he could even smirk in self satisfaction Scott had grabbed his arm and began dragging him away in a run. Harry had just managed to scoop up his bag before following, with no clue where they were headed. Scott's voice made its way back to him through the wind stinging at his face.

"That was absolutely brilliant! I'll bet you broke his nose!"

"If it was so brilliant, then why are we running?"

"He's not going to be happy…and I told you…he can be pretty scary. You'd better be prepared, Harry Potter, because he's in your first class."

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TBC

Thanks for reading. I promise the next chapter will be longer. Please read and review.

Love and Kisses,

Reika