Four years later: FOURTH YEAR

-

Harry marveled at the wonder that was the Quidditch World Cup stadium, as he and the Weasley's climbed upward to their seats. He spotted the Malfoy's on the floor below, heading so some of the more pristine box seats, and waved to catch his attention.

"Draco!" he called. His blonde friend looked up to find the source of the voice and smiled when he caught Harry's eye.

"Hey, Harry!" he said cheerfully. "Good summer, I expect? Didn't know you'd be here, or I might have looked you up…" Draco examined the height of the seats Harry was headed too, and added. "Way up. Exactly how far skyward are you heading?"

Lucius Malfoy came from nowhere to slap his snake's head cane on his son's shoulder.

"Let's just say," his father sneered with distaste, his angry gaze upon Mr. Weasley. "If it starts raining… they'll be the first to know. Come along, Draco."

Draco let his father go on without him. He shrugged up at Harry as if to say: 'What can you do?'… They both knew trying to change Draco's father was like trying to get Hagrid to fit into a mouse hole.

"I'll catch up with you later, Harry…" Draco promised, then put his hand up in a passive goodbye.

"You too, Drake."

"That kid, I tell ya," Ron shook his head once Draco was out of earshot.

"What?" Harry asked with genuine confusion. "Draco's our friend, Ron."

"Oh, I know that," Ron backtracked. "And don't get me wrong, he's good in my book too. It's just, I don't know… something about him I'll never rightly trust. My brothers still can't believe I hang around him, and my father refuses to let him come over to the Burrow… I mean-- he's a Malfoy."

Harry smirked knowingly, his eyes falling to Hermione.

"What?" it was Ron's turn to be confused. "What's the face for?"

"Nothing…" Harry grinned. Ron glared at him like he was the dumbest person alive, then went on his way.

-

Harry stepped out of the tent at Mr. Weasley's beckoning, to witness the chaos that had erupted outside. People were screaming and an entire family was hovering above them, and Harry was unsure of how to handle himself against the bustling mob. Men in masks and hoods seemed to be the cause of the madness, charging through the camps as if they owned the place.

Draco stood calmly off to one side of the field, leaning against a tree. Once Harry found Ron and Hermione, they went to meet up with their blonde friend.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded. "Has the world gone mad?"

"No," Draco said with some disappointment in his voice. "Just my father, I'm afraid. You haven't told anyone about what I told you over the summer, have you, Harry? You know, about him getting the… the… "

"The Dark Mark!" Hermione pointed up into the sky. "Look!"

All eyes looked to the sky. The smoky skull was broad against the night sky, a snake swirling around it as if mocking those who were opposed to it. People began to yell and scream, as Death Eaters marched fiendishly through the camp, in case there was any doubt to the Mark's authenticity. Voldemort was coming.

The crowd stampeded past the four friends, separating them immediately.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice rang out through the mob. "Ron!"

She felt a gentle hand slip in hers and pull her to the sidelines of the rush. A small hint of relief swelled in her, knowing she was no longer alone amidst the chaos. She felt strangely safer, as she peered up at her rescuer.

"Draco?"

-

Hermione shook her head as she walking across the Platform with Harry and Ron, dragging their things behind them with some difficulty. When Draco spotted them across the station, he jogged a bit to catch up, tuning in earshot to hear whatever had Hermione so upset. Ron and Harry seemed bored and uninterested, lazily placing their carts where they were directed.

"And Winky didn't even protest!" she went on as she struggled to handle her cart and place it among the others. "I can't believe any being would stand for that sort of oppression."

"What's this you're going on about?" Draco asked Hermione as he took the handle of her cart from her hands without a word. She seemed surprised at his help, but she knew better than to thank him. His pride wouldn't stand for her pointing out his kindness.

As the three boys boarded the train behind her, Draco seemed the only one left interested in what Hermione had to say. Ron snickered and leaned to whisper in Draco's ear.

"Quidditch tournaments are being disrupted, Death Eaters are running around, Dark Marks are being put up in the sky, and all Hermione can think about is that silly House Elf of Mr. Crouch's," Ron explained.

"It's downright terrible the way she was treated!" Hermione put in. "Those Elves are living beings too, with rights, like anyone else. It's slavery, that's what it is!"

"Oh yes, it's terrible, absolutely awful," Draco agreed, flashing a smile to Ron and Harry with a wink and a glimmer in his eyes. "Except the fact that they don't mind it."

Ron and Harry let out a stifled laugh, but straightened when Hermione shot all of them glares in turn.

"Oh, you don't know anything," she huffed, and went into the nearest free train compartment. The compartment across from them, Draco noticed, housed Crabbe and Goyle, a couple of big Slytherin brutes always together. Pansy Parkinson was present, her head resting on Blaise Zabini's shoulder as he bragged about a distant school he heard about that was rumored to be coming to town.

"I hear they teach Dark Arts to the students!" Blaise cooed to his friends as Draco passed. Harry, Ron and Draco loaded into the compartment that Hermione had just claimed, and sat down.

"You know," Draco mused as he joined Hermione on her booth. "My father originally wanted me at that Durmstrang school. Knew the headmaster over there, or something, and you know how he feels towards Dumbledore. I hear they don't even allow Muggle-borns admitted! Seemed the more I refused, the more Father pushed it. Eventually, Mother won out, not liking the idea of me so far a-- Merlin's beard, man, what is THAT?!"

Ron immediately hid the shred of ruffled robe that he had just draped over his owl's cage, and Harry hid a smile. Hermione looked piteous.

"My parents can't afford a new one for me, shove off," Ron ordered in a hushed voice, his ears going as red as his hair.

"And they expect you to wear that?" Draco spat out, loud as ever, so that a few passers-by stared. "That's a cruel form of torture!"

"Draco, please," Hermione interceded, something she did with him often.

Ron threw his eyes out the window, anger swelling in them. Draco exchanged glances with Harry. Draco then reached under his seat for his own dress robes.

"They're almost as bad as the ones my mother's making me wear…" Draco added, catching Ron's attention back to him.

"Well, they're alright!" Ron protested. "No frills, no lace…"

"Oh, you actually like these rags?" Draco frowned at them with exuberant disgust. "I'm sure they are very fashionable, if we lived in 1890… I think they scream 'my mother picked these out for me'."

"You can't possibly think your robes are worse than mine!" Ron spat out in unbelief.

"Look at this collar!" Draco insisted, holding his robe with two fingers like it was a dead rat. "It's reminiscent to a cleric to the church of England. If you fancy them, take 'em. I'd relish the excuse to pick out new ones."

Ron seized the black velvet robes quickly, clutching them in his grasp like they were made of gold.

"You really don't want them?" Ron squeaked with hopeful joy in his voice. Draco shrugged and waved them away, taking a gander out the window himself.

"May you live to be a thousand years old, Malfoy..." Ron breathed in the utmost of gratitude.

Harry smirked, passing a knowing glance to Hermione at Draco's subtle way of generosity. But like Draco helping Hermione with her trunk earlier, he knew better than to call him out on it. It would do no good for Draco's pride, or Ron's. Hermione managed to hide her smile, but Harry wasn't so fortunate, so he turned his face away to the window too.

-

After the sorting, Dumbledore rose to make his beginning-of-year announcements, Hermione noticed that Draco didn't pay him much attention, but rather played with the leftovers of his food.

"Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event…" the booming voice rang out in the background, as Hermione noticed Draco looking absent-minded.

"Aren't you going to listen?" Hermione nudged Draco with a small smile. Draco shrugged.

"Nothing I don't know already. Father told me all about this tournament ages ago."

"Tournament?" Hermione's interest renewed, she turned back to face Dumbledore. As Hermione stared at Dumbledore with unwavering attention, Draco couldn't help but sneak a glance at her. Such bushy hair, such buck teeth… birds could find homes in that hair, and she could chew wood with those teeth.

Yet he sat mesmerized at the back of her head, being able to stare freely and without judgment. There was no father here to scold him for admiring an impure-blood, no mother to tell him to uphold family traditions… Even Harry was distracted from giving him a teasing smile.

All except Ron, who when his eyes met his for a moment, was able to flash a meaningful glare of warning. Draco gave him a casual nod, shrugging it off with a sly smirk like it meant nothing. Like she meant nothing.

If only it were true.

-

Please review.
Signed,
--RedRogue