CHAPTER ONE: The Hogwarts Express

Author's Note: Hope you're in for a long story. If you're a fan of the other stories on this account, just want you to know that this will be written by cathartic (Author 2). Of course, I am the Color of Boom (Author 1) will be supporting me and kindly beta-reading, but not editing or writing with me as is usual on this account. Therefore, the usual style you see from us is of course going to be ridiculously different. :) Enjoy.

"Watch where you're sticking those things!"

Draco Malfoy, a young wizard with a sneer that carried the ferocity of one who wore it often, glared down upon the witch pinning his newest robe to the right length.

The mousy woman ducked her head, murmuring her apologies. Draco rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

The bell rang from the front of the shop. Madam Malkin's squeaky, sugar-coated voice reached all the way to the back of the old store.

"Hogwarts dear? Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Draco's eyes widened with interest. He squirmed with slight impatience, twisting in a way to give him the best possible view of the mystery newcomer.

From the archway leading back appeared a strange looking boy. He was abnormally thin. His skin was pale as if he got little sunlight and he carried an air of surprising confidence for his small stature. His hair was crow black and wild, and upon his bespectacled face were two vibrant green eyes. His expression was confused, shy, but otherwise passive.

"Hello," said Draco, drawing the boy's green eyes to his face, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," the boy said. Draco paused very briefly for continuation. None came.

"My father's next door buying me books, and Mother's up the street looking at wands," said Draco. Again he waited for elaboration. Had the nameless boy gotten his wand yet? Did he like books as well?

Neither books nor wands seemed to interest him enough to warrant a response in the full twenty seconds Draco gave him to answer.

"Then I'm going to drag him off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

The green-eyed boy sent him a look that almost bordered on wary. Draco did not notice.

"Have you got a broom?"

"No," said the boy. Draco tapped his foot slightly. One word answers were hard to work with.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

Draco fought a scowl. Did this strange boy enjoy anything?

"I do," he began again, "-Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"

"No." The boy then flushed with some sort of embarrassment.

Feeling responsible, Draco attempted to cheer him up with a joke: "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said the boy, looking a bit put out. Draco fished for a new subject.

"So, are your parents off getting books too? Are you going to look at brooms?"

The boy glanced at him. "They're dead."

Draco blinked. "Oh, sorry," he said quickly, a feeling of discomfort washing over him. He peered at the boy curiously. "They were our kind, weren't they?" Draco inquired – in his mind, changing the conversation topic rather tactfully.

"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" Draco rambled in an attempt to cheer up the rather put-out looking, young wizard.

Before the boy could give a proper answer, Madam Malkin said: "That's you done, my dear," peering up at him with a sort of knowing smile.

The green-eyed wizard hopped off the stool and nodded to Draco once, saying nothing.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts I suppose," Draco said. The boy blinked. Choosing to take that as a response and not an impulsive bodily function, Draco half-smiled as the boy turned and left the store in some sort of hurry.

Not long after that the mousy witch tending to him nodded, backing away. "You're done, sir," she squeaked.

Draco shrugged, hopping off the stool and darting to the front of the shop. "Father," he said, running up to Lucius Malfoy, "let's go look at racing brooms."

Narcissa Malfoy had caught up with him. "After you pick out your wand, Draco. I've picked some fine candidates but you have to be there for the wand to choose you."

Draco nodded absently, Lucius didn't look down. "Do you think that was him?" he asked Narcissa quietly.

Narcissa pressed her lips together in thought. "I'd assume so, I mean, the resemblance at least is very striking."

"Indeed," Lucius mused. "Not the same sort of attitude his father had though. More well-mannered."

"Who?" Draco butted in, curiosity burning.

"Nevermind that Draco," Narcissa said. "To the wandshop."

"And then brooms," Lucius added. "You're so talented that I'm sure they'll make an exception this year. Only a fool would turn down a talented Quidditch player due to a year's difference in age."

Draco beamed, his mind flitting from his parents' conversation for the time present, and he darted out on to the street, talking animatedly about how he needed a personal owl if he was to go to school.

The days following literally flew by for Draco. He played on his expensive new broomstick out back in the private Quidditch pitch, and he dragged his dad out to help him with his technique frequently. He bought several books on it and practiced all sorts of spins and loops and turns on his Nimbus 2000.

Mother began complaining when he started attempting to skip out on meals to practice, but his father pointed out that they should encourage his natural strengths.

He poured over the more interesting of his school books in the time he was confined to the house because of the weather. Despite his protests that real Quidditch players play despite wind, snow or hail, any light rain and his Mother kept him inside.

He practiced some hexes on the house-elves and some other simple offensive spells and charms on random objects about the house. The curtains in the living room suffered a strange burn one day, which surprisingly seemed to convince his mother it was a good idea for him to be outside playing Quidditch after all.

Draco walked over to the windowsill in his bedroom, reaching in a hand to brush over the feathers of his large, new eagle owl, Perfidis.

The owl twitched a little, blinking softly at the boy, and Draco smiled. He'd always liked owls. Father said liking animals was silly, and that they were only there to serve humans. Draco, secretly, felt that there was nothing wrong appreciating a job well done from an obedient, well-bred animal. They weren't like house elves, after all, they weren't born to serve.

Speaking of which, Draco mused, flopping down on to his king-sized bed. "Dobby," he said aloud.

A crack filled the air, and the ugly, trembling house elf lifted his giant eyes in Draco's direction, bat-like ears trembling. Draco felt a swell of disgust.

"Stop shaking like that."

Dobby froze. "Y-You called, Master Draco?"

Draco sneered. "Fetch me something to eat," he said coldly. "Quickly."

There was another loud crack, and he was gone. Draco blew out a long, slow breath and turned again to his owl's cage. He moved his fingers to the lock, and the cage door opened with a small clink.

Crack!

"Mistress Narcissa has told me to inform Master Draco that he is to eat a proper dinner when she says so, Master Draco."

Draco whirled on the elf, scowling. "You useless creature, couldn't have done it without intentionally running up to my Mum, could you?"

"D-Dobby didn't, Master Draco.."

"Away with you," Draco snapped, shutting his eyes.

When he turned around, Perfidis was perched carefully on his pillow. He let out the distinct hoot of an eagle owl, tilting his head as if to say: why?

"He's a house-elf, and I don't have to explain myself to you," Draco said. He once more tossed himself back on to his bed. Claiming his pillow as his own, he shooed the bird off it. The bird nipped the boy's ear irritably in response.

"I will put you back in the cage," Draco threatened snappishly.

The owl fluffed up his wings, as if daring him.

Draco glared, rolling his eyes. "Stupid bird," he said under his breath. The eagle owl flapped its great, large wings, then rested upon Draco's knee, pulling at his robes with his beak.

Crack!

A house elf appeared to the left of him. "Mistress Narcissa and Master Malfoy are waiting for you. You have fifteen minutes to prepare for dinner, Master Draco," she said.

He nodded, waving his hand in a shooing gesture.

Crack!

Draco sighed, and Perfidis lifted up into the air, swinging himself back into his cage and pulling the cage door shut behind him with a gentle tug of his hooked talons.

The blonde haired boy got up slowly, latching the door on the cage as he prepared to get ready for dinner.

"So, Draco, how is your new broom?" Narcissa started conversation at the quiet table.

Draco looked up from poking at his food and grinned. "It's fantastic! I'd bet I'm the only first year with a broom yet and I'm going to be on the Quidditch team, I'll be amazing! Everyone will be so impressed our first flying lesson when I show them how much better I am than all of them. Do you know I met another boy in Madam Malkin's and HE didn't even know what Quidditch WAS. Imagine!"

Lucius's lips flitted into a thin semblance of a smile. "And you've gone over your books for this year, yes? How is your new wand?"

Draco nodded. "It's all right I suppose. Father, Mother said I'm not to try making potions until we go to school, couldn't I try at least a simple one? Uncle Severus would encourage me to practice."

Narcissa huffed impatiently. "Get your elbows off the table, and Draco, potions are very dangerous and I should hope that Professor Snape would not encourage your unguided entrance to the potions world, as potions are very dangerous and testy things."

With a sulking expression, Draco removed his elbows from the table.

"You guys have been talking about Harry Potter, is he going to school this year?" Draco suddenly remembered. He looked up with excitement, glancing from parent to parent. There was hesitation in their expressions as they debated how to respond.

"Yes, there has been word that this will be Harry Potter's first year attending Hogwarts," Narcissa finally spoke.

Lucius nodded. "Though, Draco-"

"That's amazing! Do you think he remembers? I mean, he was just a baby after all. But he saved us, right? Aunt Andromeda says that he would surely have killed us all, I heard her talking about it with-"

"-Draco," Narcissa said sternly. "You're not meant to eavesdrop on adult conversations. There's a lot that is very difficult for you to understand right now."

He quieted for a moment. Remembering overhearing Aunt Andromeda saying that, and noting silently it had been the last time they had visited his aunt. It had been a very long time ago, too. He frowned, wondering why that was.

Draco sighed impatiently. "It might be easier to understand if you told me instead of hiding things from me." He scowled at both of them.

Narcissa hesitated. "Draco, some day, when you're older, we promise to explain to you as much as we can. For now, don't worry about it."

"Do you think he'll be in Slytherin? The Potters were pureblood weren't they?"

Lucius's lip curled. Narcissa spoke up before he could: "The Potters were all in Gryffindor, Draco. Pureblood or not, I wouldn't go assuming that he will be quite so different from his parents."

Draco sighed, and Lucius took that opportunity to change the subject to some of the work he'd been doing in the Ministry.

Draco poked at his food some more. He hated...whatever this was. He wanted pudding. He'd have Dobby sneak some sausages for Perfidis and some pudding for him later tonight.

"May I take Perfidis to school as my owl?" he chirped up suddenly as his parents fell into a beat of silence.

"Of course, Draco," Lucius said.

Draco practically bounced in place.

"Eat some of your dinner, Draco," Narcissa said.

"I don't like it," Draco replied shortly, pushing the plate away from him.

Narcissa peered down at it. "What house elf made this again? I wonder if she burnt it a bit, mine does not taste quite right either."

Draco took this opportunity to dash away toward the back door. His broom laid recently polished just by the door handle. He snatched it up on his way out and within minutes was out the door and up in the air, the wind whistling through his ears and ruffling his blond locks. A bird flew nearby, letting out a cheerful, bright song as it went.

The Malfoy heir flew higher, looking down over the grand estate, the sweeping hills surrounding the manor and sighed deeply.

He was going to Hogwarts. Life couldn't be better.

Harry spent the month after Diagon Alley as a ghost in the Dursley's house. In some ways this was an improvement, but after a while it became depressing.

Any seat with Harry was an empty seat, to the Dursleys. Dudley would not be in the same room as him, and no one locked him in his cupboard or made him cook breakfast.

Most of his company was his new owl, whom he had decided to name Hedwig. She spent the days half-napping and the nights sweeping in and out of the open window, bringing dead mice with her often.

Harry pinned a paper to the wall of his new bedroom, and made a mark for every day until September first. On the last day of August, he figured it was about time he spoke to the Dursleys about transportation.

He was really going to Hogwarts.

"Come now Draco, have you got your trunk and things?"

Draco threw himself down the steps of the manor, his trunk clunking angrily against each step behind him and Perfidis hooted indignantly through the whole bumpy ride.

"You're going to scratch up the floors like that," his mother scolded, narrowing her eyes.

He ducked his head, "Sorry Mother," he said.

"Nevermind that," Lucius said, gesturing to the glowing green fireplace, "let's be off, we are nearly running late." Draco silently mused that they were actually quite on time. Father always had somewhere to be however.

And old friend had called on him last night, since then Mother and Father had both been rather on edge. Draco had been sent to his bedroom for the whole of the visit - something about it being 'important adult conversations' that an eleven-year old had no part in.

Draco gathered a bit of floo powder, "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," he said, tossing in the powder, and stepped into the warm, green flames.

Shouts, rattling of cages, hoots of owls, and other such abrasive noises filled the air. Draco eyed it all with silent wonder.

A hand gripped his shoulder, Draco turned. "I'm going now, your mother will see you off. I will see you at Christmas." Draco nodded up at his father. Lucius dropped the hand off his son's shoulder, and headed back to the floo fires.

"Get on the train," his mother said after a half-second. She pressed a decently-sized bag of galleons into his palm. "We'll send more next week, your allowance will go up or down depending on how Professor Snape tells us you are behaving - tell him hello for us, by the way. You won't have a compartment left if you keep standing about. Your broom is in your trunk-"

"Shhh Mum!" Draco whispered, eyes wide. "First years aren't to have broomsticks," he whispered to her sharply.

A smile tugged at the left side of her mouth. "Oh right, right," she whispered back. "Just remember the unshrinking charm," she said quickly. She leaned forward, as if to hug him, but at the last second pulled back tensely, her mouth forming a firm line, as she waved him off.

Draco nodded, turning and heading toward the train. Perfidis hooted greetings to each passing owl, wiggling his black feathers as if to show off.

As he neared one of the train's doors, he saw a familiar flash of jet-black and green. He turned his gaze in that direction. Struggling with his trunk and a new owl cage - which held a lovely snowy owl - was the boy from Madam Malkin's. Draco smiled, moving toward the skinny boy and fishing for his wand - surely he could help, he might have only learned the levitation spell the other day but it wasn't so hard -, only to be beaten to it by a gangly, tall, red-headed couple of boys. Covered in freckles and in old, ill-fitting robes, Draco immediately recognized the Weasley twins. He scowled, remembering his Father's dislike of them.

The boy, timid as ever, nodded quietly when the twins offered their assistance loudly, finishing each other's sentences in a way they seemed to think humorous. Pushing sweat from his forehead, the skinny boy sighed in relief.

"Blimey," exclaimed one of the twins. "Are you-?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to the boy.

Draco scooted forward a bit, eyes wide with interest.

"Harry Potter!" the boys chorused.

Draco's jaw dropped. He scooted to a better angle, trying to keep his distance, and sure enough a faded, jagged scar stood out upon his forehead.

"Fred! George!"

The boys' mother stopped their gawking, and Harry quickly took his chance to retreat into the train. Draco darted after him, lugging his own trunk up the steps with a slight struggle, and shoving his wand back into his robe pockets.

He peered about the various compartments, before his eyes alighted upon Harry, sat alone in one, his head turned to the window.

Draco pulled open the door. "Hello," he said quietly.

Harry jumped, turning his head to the door.

"All the other compartments are full," he lied, "could I sit here?"

Harry nodded, gesturing to the other side of the compartment. Draco pulled his trunk in, stuffing it into the corner, and pulled Perfidis's cage to sit on the seat next to him.

Harry leaned forward. "That's a nice owl," he said, "what's his name?" His hand subconsciously rested on the cage of the snowy owl he had brought along himself.

Draco smiled, a small feeling of pride budding in his chest as he reached his fingers between the cage bars and stroked the owl's soft feathers. "Perfidis," Draco said proudly. "And his?" Draco gestured to the snowy owl.

Harry leaned back. "Hedwig, she's a girl," he said, reaching in to stroke her as well. She hooted to Perfidis who blinked in response.

A whistle blew loudly, the train began to move.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco introduced himself. He thrust out his hand, smiling.

Harry returned the handshake hesitantly. "I'm Harry," he said. He eyed the boy warily, clearly waiting for the shocked exclamation he had received from every other person he had introduced himself to thus far. Draco however seemed wonderfully unresponsive aside from a slight nod and a smile.

"So are all your family wizards?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco nodded quickly. "Oh yes of course, the Malfoys are one of the oldest pureblood families," he said proudly, puffing out his chest.

Harry turned his head to one side. "What's a pureblood?"

Draco frowned in thought. "People with only magic heritage. Or, as of more recently, people with magical parents." He chose to leave out the more harsh criteria of a pureblood.

"I see," Harry said, pausing as if in deep thought. "Does it matter, if you've got two or just one magic parent? Does it make a difference?"

Draco shrugged. "Well," he mused. "Not.. in a large way. In the way you're seen, yes. And you won't have a lot of money in the magical world, and you sort of have to make a name for yourself. But, I mean, there are.. muggleborns."

"People with two muggle parents can be wizards and witches too?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded, offering a noncommittal half-shrug and attempted to drop the subject.

"Do you think our parents knew each other?" Harry asked quizzically.

Draco hummed. "What's your surname?" he inquired innocently. Of course he already knew, but he thought Harry preferred people not to remind him of his own name every few minutes.

"Potter," he said quietly, as if afraid Draco would suddenly recognize the name and jump on him like a rabid fan.

Draco made his best effort to seem unaffected by this information. He was a very good actor, if he did say so himself.

"They might have. My parents were older than yours, I think. So I heard you went to live with muggles, for some Merlin-awful reason, what was it like?"

"Dreadful, they're horrid," Harry said. "Well, not all," he corrected himself, "just my aunt and uncle and cousin. And my cousin's friends. And most of our neighbors. And all the boys and girls in my school, and my uncle's sister.. and well..."

Draco nodded enthusiastically. "Foul sort, aren't they? Muggles don't understand magic."

Harry nodded, frowning. "Wish I'd had a whole family of wizards, or some sisters or brothers. You have any?"

Draco shook his head. "No brothers or sisters. That's all right though, I don't know if I'd like them much, Mum and Dad are so busy already, I doubt they'd have time for me," he said flippantly.

Harry nodded, wondering if the Dursleys might have been kinder if they hadn't had Dudley.

"So you must know all kinds of magic already, don't you?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "Well, I know ABOUT all sorts of magic, but you're only allowed to buy a wand once you've got your Hogwarts letter," he admitted. "Still, I reckon you and I are much better off than those muggleborns, I mean having it in our blood and all. It'll come really easy, you'll see."

Harry looked down at his hands uncertainly. "You think so?"

"Definitely," Draco said.

Harry bit his lip. "I've been reading the books, and I've been trying so hard to understand it all. I'm just worried I'll be rotten," he paused, lowering his voice, "I bet.. I bet I'm the worst in the whole class," he whispered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course you won't be! Just because you were raised with muggles doesn't make you rubbish. I mean if you were raised with the Potters if they'd had any other living family, you'd have just the same sort of blood you do now. It's not like we get loads of practice. Besides," Draco paused, biting his lip slightly, "like I said, there are complete muggleborns, who've never heard of magic until they get their Hogwarts letter. You're already much better off than them, and you'll catch on quick."

Harry nodded slowly. He opened his mouth as if to say something when a smiling, dimpled woman ducked her head in the compartment. "Anything from the cart, dears?"

Harry and Draco leapt to their feet simultaneously. "I've not eaten breakfast," they both said at once. Grinning, they had a small shoving match on the way out to the corridor.

Harry'd never had pocket money for candy or sweets with the Dursleys. His pockets now rattled with silver sickles, bronze knuts and gold galleons as he surveyed the cart.

Draco, well-versed in buying candies, immediately began buying mass amounts of chocolate frogs. Harry watched him curiously, and Draco waited patiently for Harry to pick out what he wanted.

Harry stood, cheeks beginning to look a bit red. Draco smiled. "Pumpkin Pasties are good," he said quietly.

In the end, Harry filled himself a massive bag with a little bit of everything.

"Hungry?" Draco teased as the compartment door shut behind them.

Harry nodded quickly, taking a large bite of a pumpkin pasty.

Draco dove into his chocolate frogs, and Harry gave a small gasp of horror when the first one he opened gave a croak and began to plot its escape.

"Are those real?"

Draco laughed, shaking his head and catching the frog before it got away. He took a small bite. The minute the magic chocolate touched his lips, it froze. "Just enchanted," he explained. He happily downed the chocolate and began opening the rest, piling some strange cards face-down to the left.

Harry absentmindedly nibbled on a pink colored Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean.

"Be careful with those," Draco said suddenly, swallowing another piece of chocolate. "They do mean EVERY flavor."

Harry evaluated the taste of the pink jellybean carefully. "Bubblegum," he said with a shrug. Draco nodded. "What are those?" Harry asked suddenly, pointing to Draco's growing mountain of cards.

"Chocolate frog cards," he said. "They're a sort of collection. There's around six hundred and fifty total, and I've already got them all, except Ptolemy. He's really hard to find. When I was little I think I had one, but I lost it. I was really only in it for the chocolate back then."

Harry nodded. "Well let's see if you got one!" he said cheerfully, as Draco seemed to have no frogs left.

Draco smiled, and flipped over the stack of cards, spilling them across the table.

Harry grabbed one, looking excited, and Draco smiled. "Is it him?"

"No, it's Dumbledore," Harry said, sounding awestruck.

Draco deflated. "Oh," he said. "I already have one of him. You can keep it. In fact, keep all of these." He pushed the pile in Harry's direction.

Harry's jaw dropped. "Really?" he asked, surprised.

Draco nodded. "Really," he replied, smirking.

Harry thanked him profusely and offered him a pumpkin pasty, Draco happily accepted and they spent the rest of the few minutes in a sort of pleasant, sickishly-full-with-sweets silence.

The compartment door banged open suddenly, startling both boys. A bespectacled girl with brown bushy hair eyed them both. "Have you seen a toad?" she asked. "A boy named Neville's lost one."

Harry shook his head and Draco sneered. "A toad?"

The girl glared. "Well if you DO see one," she said shortly, "let me know."

With that the compartment door snapped closed.

Harry frowned. "What's wrong with a toad?" he inquired in an indignant tone.

Draco shook his head. "Owls are the only sort of useful pet." That being said, he reached in to pet his own. "They deliver the post, see."

Harry nodded in thought.

"You ought to change," Draco said. "I suspect we'll be arriving soon!"

Harry nodded, looking down at his crumb-covered, chocolate smeared jeans and shirt. He glowed at the thought of his new, clean Hogwarts robes.

"I'll be back soon!" he said, dashing out the door.

Draco passed the few moments of silence by letting Perfidis out. The horned owl quickly perched upon his shoulder, snuffling his hair.

Draco swatted at him. "You'll mess it up," he snapped. The owl responded by snuffling his hair once more. Draco sighed, resigned to his fate, and ruffled the owl's feathers for revenge.

Harry returned, and about two seconds after he'd settled back in his seat the compartment door was flung open once again.

It was one of the Weasleys, Draco noticed with immediate distaste. The youngest one, but certainly one of them. Same hand-me-down robes, freckles and red hair. He even had some dirt on his nose.

"Hi," he said.

Draco blinked. "Hello," he said smoothly.

Harry looked to Draco, then to the red-head, a look of familiarity flashing across his features. "Hey," he said, offering him a half smile.

The boy shifted in his spot. "My brothers, I mean, people have been saying that y-you're.. Harry Potter!"

He seemed startled at the very name, and Harry cringed. Draco rolled his eyes, a gesture not missed by the red-head, who sent Draco a short glare.

"I'm Ron Weasley and I- can I see your scar?" he asked, his expression a mixture of awe and shock.

Draco gritted his teeth as Harry flinched, his cheeks turning red. "Was there something you needed?" the blond asked in a cold, impatient tone.

Ron scowled, his ear-tips turning pink, and Harry flinched again. "Yes I'm Harry Potter," he intervened, attempting to prevent a fight. "And this is Draco Malfoy," he added, nodding to the blond.

"Oh," the ginger said, and then snorted a bit, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

Draco jumped a bit out of his seat, his face burning. "Think my name's funny?" he spat. He'd gotten this more than once in the past, his parents had been accused of being Voldemort-loving scum, Death Eaters, the like. But Draco knew better. His parents had been under the Imperius Curse, surely. His parents.. they would never kill anyone.

"So what if I do?" Ron replied, his ears still pink.

"Just rich coming from you is all, being a Weasel."

Ron's eyes flashed. "It's Weasley," he hissed. "Not that I'd expect any better coming from you. Slytherin - your whole family."

"Oh yes, how could we compete with the Gryffindor heroes," Draco drawled, his lip curling. "You've got a bit of dirt on your nose, Weasel. Now unless you need something, I suggest you leave. And I don't give out charity, so you're probably better off not asking to begin with."

Ron spluttered with rage before shaking his head and stalking out the door, slamming it harshly behind him.

Harry gaped at his exit, surprised and confused. Draco sat in silence as his cheeks burned with anger.

"What's a Gryffindor?" Harry asked finally, once Draco's posture relaxed.

"One of the Houses," Draco said. "Full of rotten wannabe heroes."

"Oh," Harry said. "They can't possibly all be like him." Harry left out his opinion that Draco hadn't helped the situation any. Draco couldn't control who his family was. Harry was related to the Dursleys for Merlin's sake. If people judged him by how they felt about Uncle Vernon or Dudley... He shuddered.

Draco shook his head stiffly. "Loud, rude, and unintelligent, the lot of them. Only House worse is Hufflepuff, which is basically where you go when nowhere else will take you."

Harry nodded slowly. "So what House do you want to be in again?"

"Slytherin," he puffed up proudly. "Or maybe Ravenclaw, that'd be all right too I suppose. But they seem awfully boring. Teacher suck-ups and whatnot. Some are all right, though."

Harry nodded. "So where do you think I'll go?" he asked.

Draco hesitated. "Slytherin," he finally said. "At least, I hope so. I mean, the Hat will tell you."

Harry nodded, and opened his mouth as if a question had occurred to him, but just then the train came to a slow stop.

Harry pressed his face to the window, peering out wide-eyed, his heart hammering in his chest.

"We're here," Draco breathed. Slowly, shooting each other identical looks of fear and excitement, they made their way out into the flooded corridor.

Reading and running is a crime! ('Kay not really. But it'd be nice to see a review.)