The First Year

Chapter Four

A Stomachache

*General POV*

Draco walked beside Michael, who escorted him every morning to his classes, but that would change when he got a Master of his own age - then he would share almost all his classes with his Master.

He did not understand why this was necessary. He could take care of himself without someone constantly breathing down his neck.

"Here we are," Michael said. "I'll see you at the end of the day." With that, Michael walked away, leaving Draco to his own devices.

The Servants were always in the same class; this would last until they turned thirteen. The two first years were the only ones who were not in their Master's presence at all times. They should enjoy it while it lasted.

Pansy and Blaise both had a Hufflepuff as their Master. Pansy's was a handsome dark-haired boy - or so Draco had understood from her description. Blaise had gotten a guppy girl who loved to boss him around as much as she could.

It had already been a week since school started. Nobody had been complaining about their fate as Servants; it was the opposite. Everybody was happy and smiling enthusiastically.

Today they had Potions with the Gryffindors. They were always cautious around members of other houses because they did not know who could end up being their future Masters, but Draco had already noticed that there was some disagreement between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors.

His friend Pansy had already had a shouting match with Ron Weasley and that had been interrupted by no other than Harry Potter.

Draco had not met the famous Potter yet, only had heard his voice sometimes when he passed him in the corridor. He hadn't any reason or really any chance to talk to the smooth-voiced Gryffindor and, maybe, he never would.

Draco had managed quite nicely with his potion up until the point where somebody changed the order of his ingredients.

"Draco, no!" Blaise shouted, but it was too late.

Draco had added something else other than he was supposed to and his potion started to overflow, splashing onto his desk. Professor Snape was next to them in an instant. "What happened, Mr. Zabini?"

"Somebody switched the rat tail powder with the ground daisy's root," Blaise answered. "I didn't see who it was."

"It was Weasley, sir," Pansy's voice called out from the back. "I saw him!"

"She's lying!" Weasley exclaimed hotly.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes. "Did Mr. Malfoy have his ingredients in order before he started his potion, Mr. Zabini?"

"In perfect order, sir. I checked them myself before letting him start."

"What?!? How can you believe him? Malfoy is blind! What if he screwed up himself?" Weasley debated.

"He may be blind, but he is not stupid," Professor Snape said. "Now get back to work! Mr. Malfoy, you may assist Mr. Zabini from now on." With that Snape turned around and strode back to his own desk in front of the room.

"Draco, can you believe those moron Gryffindors?" Pansy's voice reached his ears as they left the classroom.

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

"Drake, are you all right?" Pansy touched his arm.

"Yes, I'm fine." He knew that Pansy did not believe him. He actually felt sick, but it was nothing to be worried about so he continued on his way to his next class.

***

He had to skip the flying lesson because his sickness proved to be something more than just a plain ache. His stomach cramped painfully as his friend escorted him to Hospital Wing.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Pansy shouted as soon as they entered.

Pomfrey rushed towards them. "Put him on the bed. What is the matter?" She talked so fast that Draco had problems keeping up with her.

"He said that his stomach is cramping," Pansy answered for him.

"Thank you, my dear. Now you can go back to your class. I will take care of Mr. Malfoy." Pomfrey smiled as she yanked the curtains around the bed shut.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, where does it hurt?" she asked, kindness radiating from her.

"Here," Draco bit his lip and put his hand onto his abdomen.

"Let me see." Pomfrey quietly examined him, muttering a few spells here and there. "Ah, there is nothing to worry about. I'll get you a potion which will cure you in no time," she said and left.

Draco sighed, relieved.

"Oh dear," Pomfrey sputtered as she came back. "It seems that that particular potion has run out and it will take a day to prepare more." She patted his arm reassuringly. "I will give you another one which will ease your pain a bit."

"Thank you, ma'am," Draco said, trying to relax despite of the pain.

He hadn't been long at the Hospital Wing when the door opened. At least two people came in, but Draco had to wait until Pomfrey arrived to know who they were.

"What in the name of Merlin happened?" Pomfrey asked.

"He fell off his broom. His arm seems to be broken," a young boy said.

Draco was sure that he had heard that voice before. He tried to remember but it was hard due to the fact that he had met so many people in a short period of time.

"Oh dear. Come on, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said. "You, Mr. Weasley, can go."

So it was Potter and his friend Weasley. Draco closed his eyes, sighing.

He had nothing against the two, but he had heard that Potter was an obnoxious brat who enjoyed his fame a little too much and Weasley was a completely different story - his family had no money to speak of and now he had somehow obtained a rich friend like Potter.

He vaguely heard the door closing after the Weasley brat and Madam Pomfrey walking away, and then he suddenly noticed that the room was silent.

He could feel eyes on him. Of course, he had forgotten all about Potter.

"What?" he snapped, unable to keep his temper at bay. He felt sick and his stomach was still cramping somewhat painfully. He had no patience to be friendly with anyone.

Potter didn't answer and Draco knew almost for certain that the other boy was blushing.

"If you have something to say, say it. Don't just stare at me like I was some kind of freak." He knew that he might have been a bit harsh, but somehow Potter had the ability to bring the worst out of him, and he hadn't even met the boy!

He was about to ask the boy why he hadn't said anything when Pomfrey came back.

"All right, Mr. Potter, let's see." Pomfrey proceeded to ask the boy some questions.

"How did you fall, Mr. Potter?"

"I-I couldn't control my broom."

"And you landed on your arm?"

"Y-yes."

Potter sounded weak and unsure. Draco blinked. Why would the Boy-Who-Lived sound like he didn't belong here, like he had no right to be here? He had thought that Potter would be talkative, bragging about how he defeated You-Know-Who.

"You will have to stay over night. Your arm is broken and it will take time to heal," Madam Pomfrey said, and left the alone.

Draco had never experienced a more uncomfortable silence than the one which surrounded him and Potter.

Draco sighed, deciding to give Potter a chance. "I didn't mean to be so harsh earlier, Mr. Potter," he said, remembering his place.

"It's okay," a faint reply answered from the next bed on his right.

"No, Mr. Potter, it was uncalled for." He turned his head towards Potter. "I apologize."

"Thanks, and," he heard Potter say, "call me Harry."

A smile almost appeared on Draco's lips, but he remained expressionless.

***

The next day he was released from the Hospital Wing, and he found Michael waiting for him in the corridor outside.

Michael smiled at the sight of Draco. "Come, it's already dinner time."

After dinner, Draco walked behind Michael to their room. Michael paused at the door, turning to look at Draco. "I heard that you missed your classes today, am I correct?"

"Yes, Master," Draco said and kept his eyes downcast just in case somebody walked by.

"Pansy brought your homework to me before dinner. I'll help you with as much of it as I can so you won't fall behind."

Draco nodded. "Thank you, Master."