Year of the Dragon

"Harry!" A slim, beautiful girl with wavy brown hair and long black robes shoved her way through the back to school crowd in Diagon Alley. She appeared to have discovered that the mass of books in her arms had more practical uses than just for reading; anyone who got in her way was promptly thumped by one of the heavy volumes. Harry felt a grin spread on his face.

"Hermione! It's great to see you," he said as she placed her books neatly on the ground and threw her arms around him in a friendly embrace. When Harry pulled back, he was shocked to see tears forming in Hermione's eyes. "Er, Hermione? What's wrong?" He watched her uncomfortably. . .he wasn't used to his friends crying for no reason. She shook her head and muttered something under her breath.

"I just missed you, that's all. Oh, Harry! I tried to Owl you, but Dumbledore forbid it in case You Know Who intercepted it, or worse," she paused for effect, raising her right eyebrow dramatically. Harry shivered; he preferred not to think about fell under the 'worse' category. "I haven't spoken to any of the Weasley's either, you know. So please don't be upset." She looked up at him pleadingly. He stared back, wide-eyed, and shrugged.

"It wasn't exactly your fault. It was Voldemort's. Besides, I can talk to you in person now." She smiled gratefully, gathered her books and they began to walk. "So, do you have any idea where Ron is? I've been here for a good half hour now and haven't seen a spot of red hair anywhere." Hermione's brow furrowed in thought.

"No, I haven't seen him. How did you get here if not with Ron? Dumbledore wouldn't let you come alone in a million years. Did the Dursleys bring you?" Harry stopped and gave Hermione his best you-should-know-better-than-that look. She sniffed irritably. "Well, how did you get here then? You can't have used floo powder..." Harry blanched, remembering his first experience with floo powder in second year where he ended up stranded in Knockturn Alley.

"I don't like floo powder very much."

"...and here you are wandering around alone..."

"He sent Hagrid, Hermione!" Hermione nodded briskly with a satisfied look on her face, content that this explained everything.

"So have you gotten everything you need yet?" Harry shook is head.

"No, Hagrid insisted that he go get my books--" Harry was interrupted by a deep and excited voice. A very familiar voice.

"Hey, thought you'd do your shopping without me, did you?" Harry and Hermione whipped around to see Ron standing there, grinning goofily fro ear to ear in brand new robes.

"Ron! Wicked robes! How-I mean," Harry had been about to ask how Ron had gotten new robes, but realized this would have been a grave mistake, "When did you get them?" Ron looked at Harry a little suspiciously, but otherwise ignored the slip. He smiled again.

"Mum convinced Dad to let me get them. I've grown so much they both thought some new clothes were necessary. So, what do you think?" Harry nodded his approval. Indeed, Ron had grown more over the summer. He was easily 6'1" now, and he'd finally gained some muscle. Yes, Harry realized his friend was going to have a much easier time this year.

"Erm, they're very nice robes, Ron," mumbled Hermione, her eyes downcast. Ron turned two shades darker than his hair and murmured something in response that sounded like a thank you, but could have been him holding back a cough. Harry wanted to laugh out loud at his two friends. Ever since second year there'd been some tension between them, and it had only gotten worse as they'd gotten older. Especially after Ron's immature behaviour at the Yule ball. Harry watched as Hermione searched for something to say to break the silence, and decided to come to her rescue.

"Alright, now I just have to get some new robes, and Ron can definitely help me there...he seems to know what looks good." Ron's ears turned pink, but all he did was laugh.

"Right,"said Hermione, continuing to walk towards the robe shop. "I need some new robes too...my old ones fit terribly, er, that is, because they're too short." She said this last very firmly, as if anyone who dare suggest that there was any other reason for her robes to cease to fit properly would be hexed. Hermione's girl's body had blossomed into womanhood over the last couple of years, and Harry suspected she wasn't very pleased about it. Harry nodded.

"What do you say Ron? You will help me out, won't you? I don't think I have any fashion sense."

They made their way to Madame Clavelle's Robes and Clothes. Madame Clavelle herself happened to be in that day, and nearly had a heart attack upon realizing that Harry Potter was buying robes in her shop, (she hadn't been there the last time Harry came in, and it had always vexed her). "Oh dear, your green eyes will look stunning in this......blue brings out your hair......why, I've never seen such a handsome boy, 'cept maybe the Malfoy child..." Harry and Ron both had clenched their jaws at that comment and politely said nothing. They were both thinking they were lucky that Malfoy wasn't there now.

"What are your goals this year?" demanded a cold, sneering voice. Draco stood absolutely still before his father: back straight, chin up.

"Make sure Slytherin wins the Quidditch cup, sir," Draco replied firmly, with no trace of his usual impertinent drawl. Lucius began to pace, looking calm. Draco knew it was a deadly calm.

"And, Draco?"

"I am to make sure my marks are higher than Mudblood Granger's." Draco knew what his father was waiting for, but he didn't want to say it. He didn't want to say it with every fiber of his being. Saying what he had to would be the beginning of the end of his free will, his independence. And Draco was not the sort of person who wanted to lose either of those things. Ever. So he stalled. Lucius approached him, and struck him like a viper across the face. Draco could taste blood, but he still didn't budge. "Was I wrong, father?"

"Oh, Draco, Draco, Draco. I don't know why I put up with your stupidity," Draco stiffened at this, "and stubbornness. In fact, if it weren't for your fool of a mother I'd have had you killed already. You know this, yes?" The last word was drawn out like a hiss. Draco knew his father was telling the truth. Lucius had threatened Draco's life ever since he could remember.

"Yes father. I don't deserve to live." Lucius sneered and began to pace back and forth across his rich office.

"Indeed...you do not. You lack not only the Malfoy brains, but the charm as well. Pitiful, really. Yes, Draco, the only reason we put the clothes on your back and food in your stomach is so that you can one day hope to serve the Dark Lord, and redeem yourself. If that Wormtail can do it so can you. Now, refresh my memory. What is your goal this year at Hogwarts?" Draco fought the urge to sigh: that would be asking for trouble.

"I will spread the word about the glory of the Dark Lord, and recruit as many Hopefuls as possible. I will advance my studies so that upon my own initiation my skills will be adequate." Draco blinked slowly. It was his only sign of emotion.

"Very good. That was correct. If I can only get you to learn to uphold the family honor as well, you'll be tolerable. Now for a reminder of where your loyalties lie......Crucio!" Draco crumpled to the floor in a heap, struggling to hold back his scream as pain ripped through every fiber of his being, through ever follicle in his skin. After a moment of contemplating his son's tortured yet silent form on the floor, Lucius Malfoy grinned. The Dark Lord would be very pleased with his son.

Hermione could only smile as her two best friends played a game of exploding snap on the other side of their compartment. As usual on the Hogwarts Express, the two boys were buried in Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frog wrappers. She cringed to think what her parents would say, being dentists, but as far as Hermione could tell the magical candy never gave anyone any cavities, and she'd yet to see a witch or wizard with dentures. Hermione laughed at the absurdity of such a thought. A wizard? With dentures?

"What's so funny Hermione? I didn't hear you laugh that hard when Harry got scorched!" Ron spat accusingly. Hermione started. Ron was staring daggers at her.

"I was just thinking, Ron, and if I did want to laugh at you that would be my right." He harrumphed and Harry shook his head. Hermione was getting thoroughly frustrated with Ron Weasley. Truth be told, she'd had a bit of a crush on him since second year, although she'd never tell a living soul unless she knew how he felt. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She knew he liked her. It was obvious by how jealous he'd been of Viktor Krum. But instead of coming clean, he threw a fit, and Hermione feared that's all he would ever do. She had a sudden image of her and Ron at age seventy, still bickering with Harry trying to calm them down along with his numerous grandchildren. She shuddered.

"Having a little lover's spat, are we ladies?" a troublingly familiar voice drawled. Hermione, Harry and Ron's expressions turned hard. Hermione crossed her right leg over the other smoothly, noting with amusement how Draco, Crabbe and Goyle's eyes followed the movement.

"Not at all, Malfoy, but with your inexperience in such matters I can understand the mistake." Harry and Ron burst out laughing. Draco, much to Hermione's surprise, didn't react at all.

"You know Granger, just because I'm the only guy in Hogwarts who hasn't snogged with you doesn't mean I'm inexperienced....it means I have some self respect." Hermione's eyes narrowed, and before she knew it Ron had Malfoy pinned to the wall, seething with rage. Oh no, thought Hermione.

"Take it back Malfoy, or so help me I'll hex you into next week!" Draco regarded Ron with the same stony coolness with which he'd regarded Hermione.

"I.Wouldn't.Do.That.Weasley," Draco said softly. Harry stood up and grabbed Ron back.

"Ron, don't......he's a Death Eater, we don't know what he's capable of." Hermione could have sworn she saw some sort of emotion cross Malfoy's face at this...disgust? Pain? Surely not, but....

"Listen, Potter," Draco snapped with his old drawl, "As much as I enjoy being attacked and trading insults, I have a real reason for being here. So if you can control your little harem for two seconds, maybe I can get this over with." His gaze shifted back over to Hermione who was watching him curiously. He noted that her golden brown hair no longer resembled a frightened cat, then dismissed the thought and turned back to Harry. Harry's eyes were so suspicious Draco may have laughed...but Malfoys didn't laugh.

"Alright Malfoy, make it quick. And don't even think about trying to bloody recruit anyone or anything." Draco cringed inwardly. No, he thought, that comes later, when exercising the little bit of free will I have left becomes too dangerous.

"Not today," he said simply, letting the drawl slip to a minimum. Ron sniffed loudly.

"Right, maybe tomorrow you'll come back and give us You Know Who's invitation!"

To Draco's surprise, Hermione turned and slapped Ron across the face. He grinned. Thank GOD those two aren't dating...they'd be miserable forever. Wait...miserable forever? Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. "HERMIONE!?"

"Ron, you're acting like a complete prat. Malfoy's got something to say and while I'm as suspicious of him as the next sensible Gryffindor I think we might as well hear the stupid git out, so he can leave." She pointedly looked at the shocked Malfoy. "I'd tell you could shut your mouth now Malfoy, but weren't you just about to speak anyway? Talk." He mentally gave himself a shake and started.

"Look, this isn't a huge speech...I don't do that sort of thing. I just wanted to say this, and after being stuck in this bloody compartment with you for a few minutes I don't remember why I'm bothering." He thought for a moment, and realized he did remember. He was doing it because it was something his father and Voldemort wouldn't like or expect. "Hogwarts is going to be hell on earth for you three this year. Even Weasley here is smart enough to realize after Cedric's death that Voldemort's on the rise." Draco noticed Harry cringe when he mentioned Cedric's name, and was surprised to feel he knew how harry felt. Guilt could kill you if you weren't careful. "My point is, many students won't be your bloody friends, especially if you're a Mudblood....are you three too thick to understand this or do you get it?" He yelled the last bit out of frustration when he noticed Hermione looking at him with a mixture of awe and horror, And Ron and harry looking at him with disgust. He wasn't used to doing something good in the first place without ulterior motives, and he hadn't expected this reception. Hermione looked like she was about to say something when Weasley cut in.

"Fuck you Malfoy!" Hermione looked at him in surprise. His face and eyes were red with rage, and he was flexing his fists compulsively. Draco was taken a little off-guard as well but quickly recovered his stone mask.

"I beg your pardon, Weasley? What? Too weak for the truth? Fine. That's the only time I'm going to say that; you can take it however the hell you want to. Crabbe, Goyle, let's get out of this place." And with that he turned and stormed out, his henchmen trailing obediently behind him. The trio was left alone in their compartment in silence, exchanging glances until Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

"WHAT was that?" she asked bluntly. "Harry, tell me you just witnessed the same thing I did? Am I going crazy or something here?" She ran her hand back through her hair and slouched back against the window. "Ron, how could you have been so stupid?" Harry and Ron gave her a look she couldn't decipher. "What?"

"Hermione....Malfoy just stormed in here and threatened us like he was doing us a favor for Merlin's sake! If you didn't see that...well, maybe you are going a tad crazy," Harry said reluctantly.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her voice pitched dangerously low. Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances, then looked at her wand.

"Er, just that.....not that you're crazy, really, but maybe Malfoy's looks blinded you for a second there or something," Ron stuttered. Harry threw his hand to his forehead. That was the worst thing Ron could have said. Hermione puffed up like an angry hen and seethed.

"Blinded by his looks, am I? Unable to see past his fair facade, even after four years of seeing everything he's done just as much as you and Harry? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PIG-HEADED YOU ARE BEING?!" Ron flinched and shook his head meekly.

"Not really, ma'am." Harry noted with none too little amusement that Ron seemed to have reverted to his behaviour when he was dealing with his mother. Hermione shook her head and turned to Harry.

"Okay, let's start this over. What did you hear in Malfoy's message?" Harry shrugged easily.

"Want me to paraphrase? In Slytherin talk he basically said 'this year me and my Death Eater cronies are probably going to kill you two and Mudblood Granger'. It was painfully obvious. Sick how he acted like he was doing something maybe even a little bit good and therefore totally against his nature." Hermione nodded slowly then turned to Ron.

"Ron, what did you hear?" Ron cleared his throat and put on a face that was an unmistakable imitation of Draco's sneer.

"'I'm a conceited git who wants to show off my influence with the Death Eaters by telling you first hand that I'm going to set my Hogwarts cronies on you'." Harry applauded appreciatively.

"Nice paraphrase, Ron."

"All in a day's work, Harry," Ron replied with a grin. Hermione looked up at the ceiling and let out a long breath, causing harry and Ron to fear for another outburst. Instead, she said,

"Who's up for another game of exploding snap?"

The excitement in the air was almost tangible in the Great Hall as the new First Years waited for the sorting ceremony to being. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the Gryffindor table as usual, but both harry and Ron noticed that Hermione had been unusually silent since the incident with Dra...Malfoy earlier. As the new students were sorted into their houses, Harry and Ron tried to find out what was bothering their best friend.

"Hermione..."

"What, Ronald?" Harry and Ron braced themselves.

"Herm', you never did tell us what you heard," Harry said meekly, hoping beyond hope that she'd see the comment as it was intended. She didn't.

"Oh, I see. You two never did figure it out, did you? Well, I'm sick of being your brains. Maybe if I leave you to think for yourselves for once those pitiful lumps you call your heads will begin to function on their own." With that, she went back to watching the ceremony. Harry sighed and whispered in Ron's ear,

"It's not even about the Malfoy incident really... she's hacked off that we said she was blinded by any guys looks...that must be it..."

Hermione noted her friends whispering and knew it would be about her. She didn't care. Hermione wasn't sure she was really all that mad at them. She was very, very confused however. Her enemy, as far as she could tell, had just warned her about the danger of the upcoming year. It didn't make any sense. And she was sure that she'd seen something in Malfoy's usually masked expression. Oh sure, he often looked conceited, or hacked off, or cruel, but never did you see him happy, sad, genuinely amused.....Hermione sat up with a start. In fact, not counting the sadistic sneers and false cackles. She'd never seen him laugh. She shook herself. It was no business of hers whether or not that stuck-up-impertinent-egomaniacal-spoiled-git got in a few genuine laughs during his life. It was her business to know exactly what possessed him to warn them like that. She needed to know whether it was true, and she needed to decide whether or not she should act on it.

Draco paced determinedly across the Slytherin common room. The other Slyths had learned the hard way not bother him when he was in this mood on more than one unfortunate occasion. And that had been before his body had toned up. Where Draco had been a skinny boy before, he was a lean, very well muscled young man now, and he knew it.

"If those idiots tell anyone what I said and my father finds out..." Draco mumbled to himself, "...he tells me to spread the word....that probably wasn't what he meant...hell, I knew that when I did it...didn't even appreciate it, the Muggle-loving bastards...go and get themselves killed anyway, probably..who would believe a Malfoy?" He sighed and draped himself wearily across his favorite chair, directly in front of the fire. He decided that if he was going to rebel, doing something good was not the way to go. Draco had no idea what the little Dream Team saw in good deeds whatsoever. You were drawn to a good deed though, weren't you? Draco squashed that voice in his head firmly. The Mudblood had looked much better this year than she had last year, and certainly better than a couple of years ago. It had pained him to note that even Potter and the Weasel had grown up over the summer, although he certainly didn't see what the Gryffindor girls ooohed and aaaahed over. Probably, he mused, because he wasn't gay. Maybe he should ask Crabbe and Goyle what they thought. "Ha! Imagine their faces...they'd die if they knew I knew."

"If who knew you knew what? And don't talk to yourself, for Merlin's sake, Draco. We can't have people thinking the Malfoy family is plagued with madness, can we?" Draco simply nodded, but he was thinking that if his father and mother were any indication, it was. "Good. Remember Draco, if I hear of children writing to their parents about your stupidity or foolishness, you will wish you had never been born." Lucius' sneering, blonde haired head was floating about in the flames like it owned not only the fireplace, but the entire school.

"What is this meeting about, father? I received your Owl while I was in the Great Hall, and had to come here immediately because there was no time stated in the letter." Draco allowed a touch of his irritation to enter his voice, simply because his father was not really there. Lucius' cheeks darkened.

"You dare to criticize my choice to omit a time, Draco?" he hissed venomously. Draco shook his head stiffly.

"No father, I dare to ask you why I am meeting you here." Draco's father looked like he was going to press the subject, then thought better of it.

"Very well. If you are going to be in the service of the Dark Lord we can't have you being a complete and utter spineless coward, can we?" Draco was unsure of how he was supposed to answer that, so he said nothing. "Have you studied your Dark Arts yet?" Draco sniffed haughtily.

"Father, I just entered the school. I came directly here to meet with you, how could I have-"

"What you are saying is that you were too thick and lazy to study on the way to Hogwarts."

"Someone could have seen."

"You are a Slytherin Prefect this year, Draco!" To that, Draco could say nothing. He had been quite surprised when he'd received professor Snape's letter congratulating him on becoming a Prefect, because Dumbledore had hinted heavily to Lucius that he would not allow the position of Prefect to be bought. Even in his letter, Snape let it slip that Draco had earned the position. That had meant more to him than he would have liked. Only imbeciles like Potter and his gang fought for approval. A Malfoy didn't do that. Malfoys approved of themselves. "Now then,"snapped Lucius, dragging Draco back to reality, "I have excellent news for you, my son." Draco jerked his head up in surprise. His father only ever referred to Draco as his son in public when keeping up appearances. "Lord Voldemort is gaining power much faster than previously expected, and it seems the fuss over the Triwizard Tournament has boosted his morale significantly. He is therefore requesting that you be made a Death Eater as soon as possible." Draco felt any color his face may have contained fall away. His head was swimming. A Death Eater? So soon? Before he even left Hogwarts...he was only in Fifth Year.

"As a Fifth Year?" Draco asked incredulously. Lucius grinned, almost proudly. Almost.

"And this isn't for everyone, you know. The Crabbe and Goyle idiots certainly won't be initiated until that daft old man Dumbledore can knock some brains into them. But you Draco, you he wants now." Draco swallowed.

"When is the initiation then?" he asked in his usual calm, smooth voice. Lucius nodded his approval.

"Good, accept it. It will be before Christmas, that much we know. I will meet with you sometime within the next two weeks to give you the exact date. In the meantime, spread the word as I've told you." And with that, Lucius Malfoy disappeared. Draco sat very still for a couple of minutes, not daring to move a muscle. He finally got up and went to his dorm room. Well, he thought to himself without a trace of self pity, my life is over.

Figures.