Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, etc.

Warning: This story will be a SLASH story in time. If you don't like it, don't read it!

Also, I'm in need of a beta, so if anyone is willing just send me a message and I'll get back to you asap. In the meantime, any mistakes are my own.

Settling In

Harry Potter stared blankly out of the window of the Hogwarts Express. The weather outside was hardly cheerful, with dark clouds sending drops of rain pounding continuously on the glass. Harry had no idea as to what time it was, nor how long he had been sitting in the same position, curled up in the corner of the otherwise empty compartment of the train.

It was September 1st, and the Hogwarts Express was taking the students back to the castle for another year of school. Normally Harry would have been ecstatic at the thought of returning to the only place he had ever considered to be a home, but this time things were different.

Harry had spent the entire summer at the Dursleys, and had been rather disappointed by the fact that Ron and Hermione had barely written to him. By the time that the third week of the holidays came by, Harry had stopped looking for owls outside the window in the mornings, and had began to worry that his friends had forgotten him completely.

In spite of the fact that if something bad had happened he would know immediately, Harry had convinced himself that there had to be a good reason for the absence of mail. He thought that perhaps there had been a problem with the owls – possibly a similar situation to when Dobby had stolen his letters prior to his second year at Hogwarts.

Harry had thought of several different possibilities as to why his friends might not have written to him, but was completely unprepared for the scene that had occurred on Platform 9¾.

Harry had caught sight of Ron and Hermione, standing close to one of the carriage doors of the scarlet steam engine. He had shouted to them, trying to attract their attention, but neither seemed to hear him. Harry had started to run towards them, dodging the various other students who were saying goodbye to their families.

When he was about ten feet from where his friends stood, Harry had suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Ron had put his arms around Hermione, and the two were sharing a tender kiss. The two had broken the kiss, and both jumped apart looking guilty when they had noticed his presence.

It turned out that Ron and Hermione were now a couple, and had spent the entire summer together at the Burrow. Harry had congratulated his two best friends, but felt hurt that neither of them had spared a moment to write to him. He hadn't mentioned this, feeling that starting a new school year with an argument wouldn't be the best idea.

Hermione had been quick to reassure Harry that nothing was going to change between the three friends, and he had nodded, and assured her that he knew they weren't like that.

That had only been a few hours ago, and already Harry was starting to realise that Hermione had been lying, that in fact everything was going to change. There had been only the three of them in the compartment, but Ron and Hermione had been cuddled up on one side, kissing far more frequently than Harry thought was necessary. It made him feel awkward, like a spare part.

However, Harry did not have to endure this for long, because after only twenty minutes they both left for the Prefects carriage, and to patrol the train to make sure that nobody was up to no good.

So Harry was sat alone, staring blankly out of the window, wondering idly whether his best friends had actually realised that they had both forgotten him.

It was difficult to tell due to the darkness caused by the thick clouds, but Harry assumed that it had to be at least 7 o' clock, seeing as the plump witch with the trolley had passed by three times now, and it looked to be getting darker. He realised that if this was the case, he would need to get into his robes quickly, or he would be late to leave the train.

He pulled on his school robes over his normal clothes, before letting out a heavy sigh, realising that his 6th year at Hogwarts was going to be far from easy. 'I'm not even back at the castle yet, and I'm already having problems', he thought, as he resumed his position by the window, watching the rain fall outside.

At the front of the train, in the Slytherin Prefect's carriage, Draco Malfoy sat deep in thought, a small scowl on his pale face. He couldn't believe how irritating his fellow classmates seemed to have become over the summer. They were all worrying about simple, easily solved problems such as not having completed their Charms homework, or which N.E.W.T's they were going to be allowed to take.

Draco couldn't care less about either of these things. He had much more important things to worry about, namely the mission he was to have completed by the end of the school year. The mission that he had been given by the Dark Lord. That was the truly important matter in hand.

Draco had learned a lot about what was truly important over the summer. He had learned that no matter how much he did not want to become a Death Eater, there was no escape, and that the consequences of disobeying the Dark Lord would almost certainly lead to his death.

As he thought these things, Draco's left hand moved subconsciously to his right arm, and he began absent-mindedly running his fingers along the very sore patch on his inner forearm, which was only just beginning to heal. When it finished healing, in about two months, Draco would be bound forever to the Dark Lord. Secretly, Draco was terrified of this, but he would never admit that to anyone. Besides, the only people who he could tell his doubts were the death eater's themselves, and they would surely Avada Kedavra him so quickly if they found out, that he wouldn't even see it coming.

Learning what was truly important had really taken its toll on Draco, and he had lost a great deal of weight, despite having grown several inches over the holiday. He himself hadn't really noticed it, having been too absorbed in other matters. The other Slytherin Prefects, however, had noticed within moments of seeing him, and were constantly offering him chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties.

Draco wasn't hungry though. He just wanted to be left alone, to think and to contemplate how he was going to successfully complete his first mission from the Dark Lord, whilst avoiding suspicion from his peers. This would be a troublesome year indeed.

By the time that the Welcoming Feast had begun, Harry was feeling well and truly annoyed with the behaviour of his two so-called friends. They had barely acknowledged his existence since meeting up with him after the train journey, and now he was sat with them but neither of them had said a single word to him.

He had given up on trying to talk to them, deciding instead to confront Ron later before they went to bed. He could ask about why neither of them had written to him as well. So, being as he had nobody sat nearby to talk to, Harry scanned the room to see what was going on at the other tables.

He could see some of the smallest first year's imaginable sitting at the Ravenclaw table, pointing at the ceiling of the Great Hall, which tonight showed thick black clouds, with occasional flashes of lightning. Harry smiled a little, remembering during his own first year at Hogwarts, when he and Ron had looked at the ceiling in the same, questioning way.

Harry's eyes scanned the Hufflepuff table for anything of interest. Unfortunately, his eyes met those of a 4th year girl, who immediately started to giggle and tell her friends. Harry shuddered a little, now very aware of the fact that there were six giggling Hufflepuffs staring at him. He swiftly averted his gaze and looked to the Slytherin table.

As always, Draco Malfoy was the most noticeable person sat at the Slytherin table, as his silvery blonde hair stood out clearly from all of those around him. Harry was a little surprised to see that Draco was not laughing and joking with his friends, nor was he bullying any other students. He was simply sitting there, obviously deep in thought. His cold, grey eyes were glazed over, and to Harry he looked almost gaunt, as if he hadn't been fed for the entire summer.

Suddenly, Malfoy's eyes cleared, and focused on Harry. He gave Harry a dirty look, before seeming to realise where he was, and he turned to his friends and started to talk. Harry looked away quickly, wondering what Malfoy had been thinking about.

Draco managed to focus his mind out of his thoughts for a moment, and looked out across the hall. He was a little unnerved to find that Harry Potter was just sat staring at him, looking a little confused.

For a brief moment, Draco felt fear wash through his veins as he thought wildly that maybe Potter knew his secret. Then he pulled himself together, reassuring himself that there was no way that Potter could know anything about his summer. Draco glared at Potter, a gesture which was more than familiar to both of the boys, but for the first time it held no satisfaction for Draco. He found himself no longer caring about upsetting the Golden Trio.

However, Draco knew that he couldn't give anyone reasons to be suspicious, so he turned around and tried to join in with Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, who were deep in conversation about Quidditch, and who would be on the school teams.

He nodded, and made a few points about Slytherin needing new beaters, but Draco's heart just wasn't in it. Just a few short months ago the Slytherin Prince had been mad about Quidditch, but now he found himself not caring in the slightest whether or not Slytherin were in the running for the Quidditch cup.

Draco knew that he was going to have to be very careful, as he was already arousing people's suspicion. If anyone found out about his little mission, he would surely be sent straight to Azkaban.

Luckily, the opening feast was drawing to a close, and Draco could barely hold back a sigh of relief. He really needed some time alone to just think about how he was going to manage this.

Professor McGonagall stood and announced that all 6th years were to report to the Great Hall at 9 o' clock sharp the following morning to arrange their N.E.W.T timetables. Draco nodded; he already knew exactly what subjects he wanted to take. He stood and left the Great Hall, making a beeline for the Slytherin dormitories.

When Harry heard Professor McGonagall mention N.E.W.T subject choices, he felt his stomach begin to tie itself in knots. He had wanted to be an Auror for as long as he could remember, but knew that without an Outstanding O.W.L in Potions he could never be accepted for the N.E.W.T's required.

Harry had spent the entire summer worrying about this, and really didn't know what he was going to do. He couldn't just give up on his dream so easily, but he had no idea how he could convince the new Potions Master, Professor Slughorn to allow him to take the subject.

Harry stood up and told Ron and Hermione that he was going straight to bed, but they were too absorbed in each other's company that they didn't even notice him speaking.

Harry shook his head, and let out a heavy sigh before leaving the Great Hall and beginning the long trek up to the Gryffindor boy's dorms, trying desperately to push his N.E.W.T worries from his thoughts.

Draco lay in bed, his pale grey eyes wide open, staring upwards towards the ceiling. He knew that the Dark Lord would be contacting him on October 1st. His father had told him that it was simply to check up on his progress with the mission, but Draco knew full well that it was going to involve more than a little torture for him.

He thought of when the Dark Lord had used the Cruciatus curse on him, and instantly felt sick. Draco just knew that if that kind of pain was inflicted on him again, there was no way that he would be able to cope.

Draco pushed the thoughts aside, and began to think of what he was going to do over the next month, to hopefully impress the Dark Lord and avoid the torture of the Cruciatus curse. As long as he gave people no reason to be suspicious, Draco decided that what he was going to do was far from impossible, but at the same time he knew that it wasn't going to be easy.

The Slytherin Prince sat up and used his wand to close the curtains around his bed. Now that he was safe from prying eyes, Draco removed his shirt. The dark mark stood out on his pale skin, an alarming shade of red that almost glowed with each painful throb. Draco picked up a small tub of cream from beside him and unscrewed the lid. He began to gently rub the cream onto the raw skin of the dark mark, flinching and hissing in pain as he did so, but not once did he stop.

When the last of the cream was rubbed into his pale skin, Draco put the lid back on the tub of cream and placed it on the floor. He pulled his duvet over himself, and rolled over onto his side. 'Now to plan what I'm actually going to do…' he thought, closing his eyes and trying to think of some kind of plan.

However, the blonde boy's thoughts quickly faded, and he fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.

Harry was sat on his bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitories, his head in his hands. What had happened to his best friends? Before the summer they had been closer than ever, but now Harry felt as though he was no longer wanted. They hadn't even realised that he was talking in the Great Hall, something that Harry had most definitely not expected. It was as if Ron and Hermione just didn't need him anymore.

Harry began to think of all the possible partner situations that he would be faced with over the course of the year. There would be partner lessons in almost every subject that he was taking, worst of all being Potions. Harry had always partnered up with Ron in every subject that he had a chance, and Hermione would go with one of the girls. But this year they would certainly go together for everything. Harry groaned loudly, falling back onto the bed.

As he did so, the door flew open and Ron strode in, his cheeks looking a little flushed and a huge grin on his face. Either Ron didn't notice Harry's groan, or he ignored it -Harry strongly suspected the latter – and started whistling as he made his way towards the bathroom.

Harry took advantage of being alone in the room, and quickly changed into his pyjamas. He used his wand to levitate his used clothes back into his trunk, and then climbed into bed. As he did so, Ron returned from the bathroom and walked towards his bed. He turned to look at Harry, who was amazed to finally be acknowledged by the redheaded boy.

"You don't know what you're missing out on mate. Being in love is brilliant…you should really get yourself a girlfriend," Ron grinned, climbing into his own bed.

Harry was stunned. His best friend had barely said a word to him since they had met up on Platform 9¾, and his first real sentence had been advice about love? Harry had been expecting a conversation about Quidditch, or N.E.W.T's, or anything other than love. This was just too strange.

"Excuse me?" he asked, wondering when exactly Ron had changed from not giving two knuts about love to being absolutely obsessed with it.

"I said you need a girlfriend." Ron replied, looking at Harry a little strangely. "I mean, you're 16 years old and you've never even had one. I can help you if you want?" he offered, clearly not realising how smug he was sounding.

"No thanks, I'll be fine Ron…" said Harry, trying to keep his expression the picture of calm, and hide the rage burning within him at Ron's statement. Who did he think he was, offering to help Harry get a girlfriend like that? Harry could get a girlfriend if he wanted one, he was sure of it, but he had always got too much on his mind to cope with a relationship. Then of course there was the fact that there weren't really any girls in the whole of Hogwarts that he was particularly keen on…

"Suit yourself mate," shrugged the redhead, before rolling over and turning out his light, having no idea just how much he had managed to incense his best friend.

Harry lay awake for a long time after Ron had fallen asleep. Now that he thought of it, it was a little strange that he didn't feel particularly attracted to any of the girls in the school. He shrugged off the thought, telling himself that they just weren't his type, and he didn't want a girlfriend who he wasn't attracted to. However, a little voice in the back of his mind asked, "What is your type? You've never had a real girlfriend, so how would you know?"

Harry genuinely couldn't answer what his type was. He'd always thought that he had plenty of time before everyone got involved in relationships, but now could see that he was wrong. He sighed quietly into the darkness, and decided that he would worry about love another time.

Harry rolled over once more, and tried hard to clear his mind. He lay like this for a long time before finally falling asleep.

At five minutes to nine the following morning, Harry sauntered into the Great Hall and took his place at the Gryffindor table. He was still half asleep, and was not pleased at being denied a lie in. All students excluding 6th years already had their classes chosen, so therefore had the morning off to sleep in or do as they pleased. This of course, had resulted in 80 irritated 6th years.

Five minutes later, Professor McGonagall stood and commanded attention of the room. Ignoring the seemingly never-ending stream of latecomers rushing through the doors, she began to explain the process that would be taken for choosing subjects. All students who were certain that they had the grades needed to take all of their chosen subjects were to line up and have the lists checked first, and those who were unsure were to wait until that process was complete. The unsure students would then talk one to one with Professor McGonagall about options that could be taken if they didn't have sufficient O.W.L grades to take subjects at N.E.W.T level.

Harry let out what seemed to be his hundredth sigh since arriving at Hogwarts yesterday. This was going to be a long wait – the line of students who were certain about subject choices wasn't long at all, there looked to be barely 20 students there. If Harry had to wait for 60 others to arrange their subjects before he did, it was going to take all day.

Both Ron and Hermione had gone to the line suggesting that they were 'certain' about their choices, and neither had so much as bothered to ask Harry what he was so unsure about. Harry decided that seeing as it was going to be a long wait, he may as well get comfortable, so slumped down on the table, his head in his hands.

The line of people at the front of the Great Hall was shrinking rapidly, and only 4 people remained. Hermione and Ron seemed to have gone to lessons, most definitely not the same ones considering Ron's O.W.L grades. Harry closed his eyes, trying to distract himself from the fact that his dream of becoming an Auror was crashing down right in front of him.

Just as he was beginning to resign himself to a career of taking over from Filch when the caretaker finally met his demise, Harry felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. He jumped, and turned around to find himself face to face with the Transfiguration Professor. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but was cut off.

"Mr Potter, what are you doing here? Your O.W.L grades were very good, what do you have to be unsure of?" she asked, a genuine confused look on her face. Harry turned to face her properly, and began to explain.

"Well Professor, I wanted to become an Auror…But that means I need to take Potions at N.E.W.T level…But Snape – I mean, Professor Snape doesn't take anyone without an Outstanding at O.W.L, and I only got Excellent, so-" He didn't get any further, because Professor McGonagall began to laugh. Harry couldn't for the life of him understand what could possibly be so funny about his career choice failing, and looked at the Professor, waiting for an explanation.

"Weren't you listening in the Opening Feast Mr. Potter? Professor Snape isn't teaching Potions this year. Professor Slughorn has taken on that job, and Professor Snape is taking Defence Against the Dark Arts!" she informed him, smiling. "And I believe Professor Slughorn would be happy to take student's with an Excellent at O.W.L level" she finished, taking great pleasure in the huge grin that had crossed Harry's face.

Professor McGonagall produced a blank timetable, and with a flick of her wand Harry's classes appeared on it. He thanked her and took the timetable, glancing at it to find that he had Potions first, starting in only 5 minutes. With a huge smile on his face, Harry started to walk briskly from the Great Hall down to the dungeons. 'Finally! Something is actually going right!' he thought to himself as he made his way down the cold stone steps to the dungeons that usually filled him with such sickening dread.

To think that he had been so worried only ten minutes ago! His dream was now securely back in his reach, and Harry promised himself that he wasn't going to let anything else jeopardise his chances at becoming an Auror.

Harry was so happy that he didn't even worry about Snape being given the Defence Against The Dark Arts job. All that mattered at that moment was that he was able to get what he wanted, and he promised himself that he would actually work to his full potential this year.

Draco entered the Potions dungeon early, along with 4 other 6th years, who had obviously hadn't wanted to make a bad impression on the new professor. He was more than a little disappointed that Severus was no longer teaching Potions – Draco had always enjoyed the favouritism that his godfather had always showed him in the lesson. However, Severus teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts was going to be a much greater help to him this year, especially with his mission.

Draco had spent the entire morning from the moment that he had woken up with his thoughts on his little mission from the Dark Lord. He needn't have bothered however, as he really wasn't getting anywhere at all. Not a single possible idea had come to Draco, and he was beginning to get frustrated already. How was he going to pull this off? What was the Dark Lord going to do to him?

Draco was brought back from his thoughts when the new Potions Professor began to speak. He introduced himself as Professor Slughorn, and was a short, fat man, sporting a moustache that caused him to bear a strong likeness to a walrus. Slughorn offered a box of Turkish Delight around the room, which now contained 11 students.

Draco suddenly realised that this would be the entire class. He had heard about N.E.W.T classes being smaller than earlier on in the school, but to go from 40 students in a class to 11? And 11 was an odd number – how would the class partner up for practical lessons?

Professor Slughorn suddenly asked everyone to move to the front desks, laughing as he told the students that he wasn't quite as frightening as Professor Snape. Draco raised his eyebrows skywards – as if they hadn't already noticed that Slughorn was hardly the picture of malice and fear. He picked up his bag and sat down alone at a desk. Draco was beginning to resent his friends for not making the cut to take Potions for N.E.W.T level, as he didn't want to be working with any of the other students in the room. There were 4 Slytherins including himself, 3 Ravenclaws, only 2 Hufflepuffs and 2 Gryffindors.

Draco certainly didn't want to work with anyone from the other three houses, and really couldn't for the life of him figure out how any of the Hufflepuffs had managed to get anywhere near a Potions lab this year. Two of the other Slytherins were girls – Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, both of whom Draco was friendly with, but he knew that they would go together. The other Slytherin was Graham Pritchard, a boy who had never gotten on particularly well with Draco. So for once Draco had nobody to sit with. But if there were 11 students, perhaps he would be allowed to work alone anyway.

However, as Draco took comfort in that thought, the door burst open and a twelfth student stumbled in. The boy looked thoroughly out of breath, clearly having ran (or walked very quickly) the distance from the Great Hall to the dungeons for the lesson.

"Sorry I'm late sir," he panted, "I didn't know I could take Potions this year." He collapsed down onto the nearest empty desk, trying to get his breath back. Draco was speechless. What the hell was he doing here? No way had he got an Outstanding in the O.W.L's.

"Potter?"

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