Rating:
PG
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy
Genres:
Drama Humor
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone
Stats:
Published: 12/05/2002
Updated: 04/08/2003
Words: 22,547
Chapters: 4
Hits: 8,560

The World According to Draco Malfoy

Marysia

Story Summary:
The first four books told from Draco's point of view. Prequel to The Marks We Bear. Unfinished.

Chapter 01

Chapter Summary:
The first four books told from Draco's point of view. Prequel to The Marks We Bear.
Posted:
12/05/2002
Hits:
3,927

The World According to Draco Malfoy

by Marysia (Nov 2002)

Chapter 1 - Learning To Be A Malfoy

Draco Malfoy had never spent more than two nights away from his mother in his entire young life. As such the prospect of being away from her for an entire four months, one hundred and thirteen days to be precise, was terrifying.

To make it even worse he would have to share a bedroom, possibly with as many as five or six complete strangers. He had to get into the same house as Crabbe and Goyle, he just had to, and they had to be in Slytherin or his father would be very upset.

At least he wasn't going away to the school his father had wanted to send him to, somewhere away across the sea where it was dark almost all the time and cold and, according to his mother, there were bears! His mother had flat out refused to let father send him there no matter how bad he thought Hogwarts was. She had studied at Beauxbatons and it sounded really nice, but he was glad he wasn't going there either as that was over the sea in mainland Europe too. Much too far away from home.

It would have been fun to speak French all the time though, as they apparently did there. Draco's mother spoke to him in French sometimes, it was their secret language. Not many wizards in England could speak another language.

Not having his own room and being away from his mother weren't Draco's only worries about Hogwarts, though. Apparently they let mudbloods into Hogwarts. What if he had to share a room with one of them! Surely that wouldn't be allowed, it was disgusting, but father said the headmaster liked mudbloods and half-bloods better than purebloods. The headmaster sounded awful and Draco was sure he would be picked on for being pureblood. The mudbloods were certain to be jealous of him. That was another reason he had to be in the same house as Crabbe and Goyle, they were much bigger and stronger than him and he always felt safer with them around when he wasn't at home.

He had been friends with Crabbe and Goyle as long as he could remember, they didn't live very far away from him and they came over to the Manor to play all the time. Their fathers were friends of his father. Crabbe and Goyle had been to school before, not to Hogwarts but to a Primary School called Puddle-on-the-Hill Primary. Draco had never been to any school, he had been taught at the Manor by tutors and by his mother. He wasn't sure if he would know as much as everyone else or not, he seemed much smarter than Crabbe and Goyle and his mother said he was very clever, but his father always came out of meetings with his tutors looking dissatisfied and when he quizzed Draco, Draco never seemed to know the answers to half the questions he asked. But then his father was very, very clever.

Draco thought that his father was probably the cleverest and the most talented wizard in England, maybe even in the whole world. Except for the Dark Lord of course, but he wasn't around any more. Besides, the Dark Lord sounded rather scary. Not that his father couldn't be scary, but it was a different sort of scary. It was that sinking feeling in your stomach and tears pricking behind your eyes that you daren't let fall kind of scary, when he looked at you with that disappointed expression and you wondered whether this was the time when he would finally give up on you altogether because you were never strong enough, brave enough, smart enough...

The Dark Lord was that freezing still under your bedclothes, don't move or even breath or it will get you, kind of scary. The kind of scary that made Draco sneak out of bed again after father had closed the bedroom door to relight the lamp. His father said that only mudbloods and squibs were afraid of the dark, a real wizard had nothing to be afraid of. Draco thought that was all very well but he didn't even have a wand yet and the light made everything seem safer. He wondered if there would be a light on in his dormitory at Hogwarts. Would any of the other boys be afraid of the dark or would they laugh at him? Draco hated being laughed at. When a boy had laughed at him when they were at the beach once, because his mother made him wear a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off his face, he had thrown sand in his face. The boy had gone running off crying to his mother and then Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had laughed at him. Malfoys did not allow other people to laugh at them.

Draco had heard a lot about Hogwarts from his father and from Crabbe and Goyle, he had also read a book his mother had given him called 'Hogwarts: A History'. Well, he'd read bits of it anyway, it had been long and a bit boring. Hogwarts was surrounded by a huge forest called the Forbidden Forest that students were not allowed to go into because it was full of dangerous creatures like werewolves and giant spiders and maybe even vampires. The castle itself was haunted, and not just be family ghosts like the Manor, but by terrifying blood drenched spectres, ghouls and a poltergeist.

Draco hated ghosts, hated the way they snuck up on you by walking through walls and froze your blood when they passed right through you. His father was very strict about who took up residence in the Manor and exorcised any unwelcome spirits immediately but that still left several family ghosts, Draco had never been entirely sure how many because some of them kept to themselves a lot. He had tried to persuade his father to exorcise all of the ghosts, but to no avail. Most of all Draco hated the ghost of his many-times-great-uncle Ambrosius. Great Uncle Ambrosius agreed with his father that Draco was too soft, too molly-coddled, but Great Uncle Ambrosius had a novel method of trying to fix this. He would tell Draco the most lurid stories of demons and monsters on the theory that if he frightened him enough, Draco would eventually toughen up. So far it hadn't been very successful, all it appeared to have done was give Draco terrible nightmares.

Sometimes, when his father was away, Draco would go through to his mother's room at night and she never minded if he asked to sleep with her. They would whisper in French about what they had done that day and what they might do the next.

Last night, Draco had slept in his own room, and he had dreamed he was being chased through a huge, dark forest by a monster he couldn't see. He had been having more nightmares than usual this summer as it grew closer and closer to the day he would leave for Hogwarts. That day was still over a month away, but today they were going to Diagon Alley to buy his school things and, most importantly, to get his first wand.

After breakfast they walked to the grand entrance hall of Malfoy Manor and put on their light summer traveling cloaks. Draco's father beckoned him to his side and put an unfamiliar arm around his shoulders, pulling him tight against him. It was very rare that Draco had any physical contact with his father, usually when they apparated somewhere his mother took him, and so he took advantage of the rare opportunity to press closer, turning his head in slightly so that he could smell the familiar mix of brandy and fur that he associated with his father. He knew it would not be long before he was too big to be apparated like this and they would have to use Portkeys or carriages to get around as a family. Then with a pop they were gone and a heartbeat later they had reappeared in the courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron.

As soon as they had arrived, his father stepped away from him, giving him a cold, questioning look when his arm lingered too long around his father's waist. He dropped it quickly and looked down at the ground, trying to muster up the kind of expression his father approved of. When he looked back up his face was suitably cool and haughty, but his eyes still betrayed him to anyone who was paying attention, they were a little too hopeful.

He was excited about the shopping trip, he loved to get new things even if they were boring school things for a place he didn't even want to go to. And he did want a wand, more than anything, even more than a new broom. Not that he was going to get a new broom since they weren't even allowed one at school, not in first year anyway. It was so unfair as flying was the one thing he was sure he was good at, even his father said he was an excellent flier and just the right build to play seeker in Quidditch. Not that he had ever played Quidditch really, though he had seen loads of matches with his father. He had a Comet 260 at home that he had got last year for his tenth birthday, but what he really wanted was one of the new Nimbus 2000 broomsticks, he hoped he would at least get to look at one while they were here. He was harbouring a vague hope that if he pestered his father enough he might get one for his birthday next month.

They entered Diagon Alley and his mother drew him over to Madam Malkin's. "Now, darling, we're going to leave you here to get fitted up for your new school uniform while we go and pick up some of the other things on your list."

Draco watched his father stride off into Flourish & Blotts wearing his 'attend to me, for I am Shopping and I have a lot of money to spend' face. His mother led him into the clothes shop and spoke to one of the assistants, then turned back to Draco.

"Behave yourself for Madam Malkin, Draco, and you can meet me in Ollivander's when you're finished here. That's the wand shop, it's only a few shops down on the right. D'accord?"

"Oui, maman," he smiled, knowing that she sensed his nerves. "Ca c'est bon."

She kissed his cheek and left the shop. When she was gone he turned around and stepped up onto the stool the woman there indicated. He looked around the shop as she started fitting his robes, usually Madam Malkin's was full of brightly coloured, dashingly cut robes with soft fabrics he loved to rub his cheek against, but today everything on display seemed to be boring and black. All school robes, he supposed, he had never been here during the back-to-school rush before.

He peered out the window, trying to spot children wandering by and wondering when he did if they were going to Hogwarts and if they would be in his year and if they would like him or not. The bell over the door rang and a small, nervous looking boy with tousled hair and glasses came into the shop. The clothes he was wearing were far too big for him and his glasses were held together with tape of some sort. Draco was almost certain his father would not approve of this scruffy boy, but Draco thought he looked rather pixie-like in his over-sized clothes with his big eyes and wild hair. He was alone and looked a little lost and somehow that made Draco feel more confident, he clearly wasn't the only one who was nervous about going to school.

The boy was shown to a stool next to Draco and Madam Malkin immediately threw a set of robes over his head, when he reappeared from under them he glanced at Draco curiously and Draco was delighted to see that he had bright green eyes. Draco had always wanted green eyes, he imagined that elves would have green eyes and he loved elves. Not house elves, but real elves, like in the stories his mother told him. Draco's eyes were grey like his father's, although his mother said they were silver. Her eyes were blue, which was better than grey but not anywhere near as good as green. Green was Draco's favourite colour.

Wondering if maybe he and this boy could be friends Draco said, "Hullo. Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," said the boy shortly.

Not really sure what to say next and nervous that he might make a bad impression, he didn't meet many other children and when he did his parents were always there to make formal introductions, Draco put on what he thought of as his Malfoy voice. It was the voice his father always used when talking to strangers and Draco found it invariably made him sound less nervous than he was. "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," he said. "Then I'm going to drag them 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 boy didn't look very interested. "Have you got your own broom?" Draco asked, trying to find something they might have in common.

"No," said the boy.

"Play Quidditch at all?" he asked hopefully.

"No," the boy answered again.

Draco had no idea what to say to that so he just kept going in the hopes that the boy would eventually give more than a one word answer. "I do - 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," said the boy.

He wasn't even looking at him and somehow that just made Draco more determined to get through to him somehow. If he couldn't even make friends with one boy, how would he manage with a whole school? "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they," Draco tried. "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?"

The boy made a non-commital noise, not even a word this time. This was going terribly. Draco suddenly spotted something startling outside the window, an enormous hairy man waving what looked like an ice cream was leering at them through the glass.

"I say!" Draco said in surprise. "Look at that man!" He nodded towards the window, unable to point as his hands were trapped in the robes being pinned around him.

"That's Hagrid," the boy told him. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said Draco, trying to remember what his father had said, he was sure he had mentioned someone called Hagrid. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," the boy replied, still looking out the window.

Of course, Draco remembered now. "Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut in the school grounds," Draco repressed a shudder as he watched the man through the window. He barely looked human with all that hair and he was so big he had to bend down slightly to look in the window at them, he hoped he had gone away before he had to leave the shop, "and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed." Draco had thought he sounded funny but seeing him now it didn't seem amusing at all to have a monster like that wandering drunk around the school, accidentally setting fire to things.

The boy turned back to him and his green eyes were glittery and cold like emeralds. "I think he's brilliant," the boy said sharply.

"Do you?" Draco replied, taken aback, suddenly realising the monster had been waving at the boy next to him. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?" He presumed the giant of a man outside couldn't possibly be the father of such a fine-boned boy.

"They're dead," the boy answered, turning away from him again.

"Oh." Draco got the feeling he had monumentally stuffed things up, but he didn't know what to say to fix things. Besides, he was beginning to wonder if he really did want to be friends with this boy after all. He wasn't very polite and if he was friends with a monster like that... what if he was talking to a mudblood! "Sorry," he ventured. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

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

Draco heaved a huge sigh of relief, he was a pureblood after all, just a bit down on his luck obviously and if his parents were dead then he probably didn't have much choice in who looked after him. "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." Draco couldn't imagine never having heard of magic or wizards. "I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families." He suddenly realised he hadn't asked the boy his name, he was so used to having someone else to do the introducing. "What's your surname, anyway?"

But before the boy answered, Madam Malkin interrupted them. "That's you done, my dear," she said to the boy, who was apparently only getting the very basics.

The boy jumped down from his footstool and Draco called after him, "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

He didn't even look back, never mind say goodbye, and Draco fought a tremble that was fighting its way towards his bottom lip. He was not going to get upset just because some stupid boy didn't seem to want to be friends with him. He was just one boy, there would be plenty of boys at school to be friends with, boys who wore clothes that fitted and didn't hang around with monstrous hairy men who looked like they might eat you as soon as talk to you. Stupid boy with his stupid green eyes.

Draco bit his lip and stared intently at the wall until the woman had finished fitting him.

It took quite some time before he was done, his mother having requested a large assortment of new clothes which she felt he required for the start of school, and when he was done he went to the door and peered out, trying to look casual. The rude, green-eyed boy and the giant man were nowhere in sight and he could see the battered sign for Ollivander's just down the street, so he squared his shoulders and set out. He hadn't taken more than three steps when out of the very shop he was walking towards came the very people he was trying to avoid. He ducked back behind a large barrel as the huge man led the boy past him, he looked pensive and was carrying a wand sized box.

Draco waited until they were well past him and then darted through the crowd towards the shabby facade of Ollivander's, wondering if his mother had also spoken to the boy with the green eyes. However, when he got inside, his mother was nowhere to be found. Draco stood nervously by the door, looking around the small, dimly lit shop. There were boxes everywhere, scattered across the counter and piled haphazardly on a somewhat crooked chair, as well as piled up in orderly columns along the walls. An old man, presumably Mr Ollivander, was busy putting them away, humming to himself as he did. It was an eerie little tune.

He turned around and peered at Draco. "Hmm..." he said. "Master Malfoy, I presume?"

"Yes," squeaked Draco, turning a little pink before he could pull himself back under control. "Is my mother..."

"Your mother is not here," said the man, before he could even finish the question. He drew out a tape measure and stepped towards Draco, who instinctively took a step away from him. "I don't believe I have ever met your mother," the man continued. "But your father, I recall. Chestnut, eleven inches, good for duelling."

He held up the tape measure and Draco bounced away again. "I'm supposed to meet my mother," he said firmly.

"Nonsense," said the man. "You are here to get a wand and I don't have all day. Hold out your arm."

With a last hopeful look toward the door, Draco once again submitted to a measuring tape. It seemed like the only thing the wizarding world cared about today was the length of his limbs and the circumference of his head. He held out his left-arm.

"Left-handed?" asked Mr Ollivander.

Draco nodded and the man proceeded to measure him in the most unexpected places. Before long he was rummaging through the boxes and presenting Draco with wands to try. He heard the door behind him open and looked around to see his mother, at last.

"Draco, darling," she cooed. "I got a little caught up, je suis navre. How are we doing here?"

"I'm all right," said Draco. "But none of these wands seem to be any good."

Mr Ollivander harumphed.

"Don't fret, darling, finding a wand always takes a little while."

"Beechwood and dragon heartstring," Mr Ollivander said, thrusting another wand into Draco's hand. "Eight inches."

Draco gave the wand a wave, but nothing happened, and so they continued.

Finally Draco felt something as Mr Ollivander pressed yet another wand on him. There was a tingle and as he waved the wand, which seemed to move with his arm, there was a burst of green light like sunshine through leaves.

"Ah," said Mr Ollivander. "Fig, most unusual, and unicorn hair. Ten inches. A very temperamental wood, very sensitive."

Draco looked at the wand in wonder, it felt warm in his hand and when Mr Ollivander reached out to take it and wrap it he found he didn't want to let it go yet.

His mother paid and they went back out into the street to find his father, Draco clutching the small box to his chest.

----------------

Draco's birthday was usually one of his favourite days of the year along with Yule and Samhain. However, this year, it was over shadowed by the coming start of the school year, which was now only days away.

He sat on a bench in the garden overlooking the Manor with his new eagle owl, Mabon, perched beside him. He had managed to stay in good cheer for most of the day, despite the disappointing lack of any Nimbus 2000 shaped packages, but now a gloom was falling over him as twilight fell over the surrounding countryside. Crabbe and Goyle were spending the night, but he had given them the slip, tired of listening to their excited but repetitive chatter about Hogwarts. They didn't seem worried about going at all, they were looking forward to it. Well, what did they have to be worried about? Nobody expected them to do anything but not get expelled and they were big and strong enough that no one would be likely to give them any trouble. They never seemed to be afraid of anything.

Draco turned to his new owl and ran his finger softly over his head, Mabon hooted softly. He was actually quite pleased with his father's gift, there weren't many animals he liked, but he did like birds and now he would be able to send letters home as often as he wanted. His mother had already promised to write at least once a week and to send him sweets since he'd have no way to buy any at school. Draco had a very sweet tooth.

He saw Crabbe and Goyle run out of the house and spot him and immediately pulled his face into a less miserable expression. It was one thing to feel bad but it was quite another to show that weakness to other people, the only person he had confessed his nerves to was his mother and he intended to keep it that way.

-----------

When his final night at home came Draco found he couldn't sleep at all. He didn't want to wake up in the morning and have it be time to leave. Instead he lay awake, cradling his wand in one hand. He had taken to carrying his wand with him everywhere he went, there was something comforting about it, even though he had managed to perform only a couple of simple spells so far.

Right now it wasn't helping much. He felt cold despite his covers and empty despite his dinner and he almost thought he might cry. He could feel the tears trying to form and for a moment he entertained the thought of letting them, of breaking down and weeping into his pillow like a baby, but no. Malfoy's did not cry. He bit the inside of his mouth and squeezed his wand so hard he worried it might snap.

He could remember the last time he had cried, it had been out of pain not sorrow at least, though his father had still been furious. He had been at the stables with his father and the big stallion his father favoured had kicked him and he had been unable to stop the tears from coming to his eyes. He hated horses, they were so... big, and they never did what he told them, as if they could tell he was afraid of them no matter how hard he tried to hide it. One more thing for his father to be disappointed about, Draco was afraid of most animals, though he tried to hide it. Anything that looked vaguely like it might bite, kick or sting him immediately inspired him to stay the hell out of it's way. His father felt it was a gentleman's place to appreciate such things as dogs (though never in the house), horses and dragons.

He did fall asleep eventually as he had to be woken up in the morning. He stumbled out of bed feeling completely exhausted and all of his attention was focused on eating and getting dressed without yawning or falling asleep in his porridge. Then, suddenly, it seemed everything was done and he was being pushed out of the door towards the waiting car.

"Wait," he said frantically. "I haven't... I mean..." He hadn't said goodbye yet, to his room and his view and his things and his home.

"What is it, Draco?" his father said impatiently. "It's a long drive to London, we must be going or you will miss the train."

He wanted to miss the train, but he didn't say that, he just got into the car. His father was always irritable when they had to use the car to go anywhere. Even though it was a top of the line, highly luxurious Panther 660, his father still felt at heart that cars were Muggle inventions and thus inappropriate transport for a pure-blood wizard of his standing.

Draco snuck a last look around before his father closed the door and on the seat opposite him his owl, Mabon, hooted in what he thought might be understanding. He stared fixedly out of the window as the car pulled away, not really seeing anything as he worked on keeping his expression still and unfeeling under his fathers watchful eye.

As they drove his father lectured him lazily, though he knew that despite that tone his father expected him to take note of every word. "Hogwarts will be a true test of your mettle, Draco. There are always choices to be made and your mother and I will no longer be there to ensure you make the right ones. No matter what house you are sorted into," and here his father gave him a cold glare that said it had better be Slytherin, "you will find yourself faced with a host of potential new friends, only some of whom will be worth your time. Always be sure to find out someone's family background before letting them into your confidence, I won't have you consorting with mudbloods. If you are unsure, do write your mother or I as we know far more about these things than you. Remember that just because someone is a pureblood wizard does not mean their priorities are the same as ours, just look at people like Dumbledore and that infernal Weasley family. Muggle lovers through and through..."

Draco's father talked about the Weasleys a lot, it seemed Mr Weasley had it in for his father and was always trying to cause trouble for him at the Ministry. Draco presumed this was because Mr Weasley was jealous of the Malfoy's wealth as the Weasleys were very poor, mostly due to their habit of having very large families, seven children in total! One of these children was supposed to be in Draco's year at Hogwarts, he had already been fore-warned to stay well away from him. The Malfoys didn't approve of large families, it was common and led to in-fighting over who would inherit; the Weasleys didn't have anything to inherit so he supposed they didn't have to worry about that. Mr Weasley was also very fond of Muggles and was always coming down on the side of the mudbloods despite the fact his family was of pure blood.

"Are you listening, Draco?" his father broke into his train of thought.

"Yes, father," he said obediently. "I'll be very careful who I make friends with."

"Parkinson and Nott both have children starting at Hogwarts this year," his father continued. "Good, respectable wizarding families who see things the way we do. I'm sure you will get on well with them."

Draco had met Pansy Parkinson before, although his father had clearly forgotten, and he wasn't so sure. She was a shrill, excitable, bossy girl. They had met at her tenth birthday party last year, her parents seemed to have invited every child in the English wizarding community. She had exclaimed that he was 'absolutely adorable', which he didn't take from anyone but his mother. He knew he had been, and unfortunately still was, small for his age and he had only been nine at the time. Then she had tried to kiss him and he had hidden behind Goyle whom she had kicked in the shin when he wouldn't move aside.

"... I expect you to do better than your peers, Draco," his father droned. "You have a standard to uphold. Malfoys have always done effortlessly well at school. I do not want to hear you are locked away in your room studying all the time, Malfoys are leaders not hide-bound intellectuals. A Malfoy sets the level that everyone else must strive for..."

Draco tuned him out. This was perfect, he was supposed to get top marks without actually studying. Next his father would expect him to fly without a broom. But Draco did have a plan, he had decided that the best way to get through school without disappointing his father was to be as like his father as he could. Anytime he got things wrong it always seemed to be because he had strayed from his fathers example. He had distilled his father down into a set of simple rules, a rough guide to being a Malfoy. These were; a Malfoy does not display weakness or emotion, a Malfoy is always in charge of any situation, a Malfoy does not suffer fools, a Malfoy does not allow an insult to pass unchallenged and, most of all, a Malfoy is better than everyone else.

He did plan to study, he wasn't so foolish as to imagine he could be top of his class without doing so, if he could be top of his class at all. However, he would take care not to let his father, or anyone else, know how much work he was doing.

As long as he had Crabbe and Goyle to back him up and kept control of himself, he would be fine.

Unfortunately it wasn't long before his precarious control was slipping again. As the car pulled up in front of Kings Cross Station he felt his stomach butterflying. The place was full of Muggles, he had never seen so many at once. His mother took his hand as they began walking into the station and he held it tightly, staring at the odd shops and clothes around him, afraid that someone would realise that they didn't belong there.

"Really, Narcissa," his father commented. "He is not a little boy anymore. You will ruin his standing with the other boys if you make a scene."

His mother shot his father an annoyed look, but Draco pulled his hand out of her grasp. He didn't want the other boys to think he was a mother's-boy. Looking around for any sign of Crabbe and Goyle, he didn't notice his mother's hurt expression.

"Follow me," his father said curtly, and led them through the crowds until they were walking straight towards a solid metal barrier between two platforms. Draco squeezed his eyes shut just before they hit it and didn't open them again until he was sure they had passed right through.

Platform 9 and 3/4 was busy too, but with wizards and witches and their noisy children, animals and scattered luggage. Draco didn't realise he was gaping and pressing himself closer to his mothers side until his father shot him a cold look. He quickly pulled himself upright and rearranged his features. Before he could even begin looking for them again, Crabbe and Goyle materialised through the crowd.

"Draco!" said Crabbe breathlessly. "We've been waiting for you, isn't this great?"

"Mum and Dad dropped us off ages ago," said Goyle.

Draco's father cleared his throat dangerously.

"Oh!" said Crabbe, then straightened himself, elbowed Goyle in the side, and recited, "Hullo, Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy. I hope you are well."

"Vincent," said his father tightly. "Gregory. And how are your parents?"

Goyle gurned in a rather terrifying manner, causing Draco's father to raise one eyebrow. Draco really wished he could figure out how to do that, his father could speak volumes with one twitch of his forehead.

"They're fine," said Crabbe quickly, shifting nervously from foot to foot, neither boy enjoyed talking to Draco's father.

"Well," said Draco's mother. "Why don't we get you boys onto the train?"

"Our stuff's already on the train," said Goyle. "C'mon. We've got money for sweets, too!"

Draco followed his friends down the train, his parents walking behind him, to a compartment scattered liberally with Crabbe and Goyle's possessions. Also inside was a boy, perched on the edge of a seat, who had obviously not been there when Crabbe and Goyle had left to find Draco. The boy was tall and lanky with dark skin, he wore Muggle clothing and was clutching a small canvas bag that said 'West Ham' on it. He looked nervous but excited.

"Hi," he said. "Are you first years too?"

Draco glanced back to see his father had stepped well away from the compartment and was gesturing him on with a stern expression. He set his shoulders back and gave the boy his best, long practised, look of cold Malfoy disdain. "This compartment is already taken," he said. "You'll need to find somewhere else."

The boy's face fell as he looked from the three of them, Crabbe and Goyle had instinctively stepped up on either side of Draco, to the six empty seats in the compartment. "But..."

Draco narrowed his eyes and Crabbe cracked his knuckles.

"Fine," said the boy, and left.

Draco saw his father give a faint smile and an approving nod and felt his spirits lift. He smiled confidently and said to his parents, "Bye, then. I'll see you in a few months." Then directly to his mother, "Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine." He swallowed the lump in his throat and the desire to give her a goodbye hug.

Before she could insist upon one, his father stepped forward and held out his hand. Draco shook it firmly and though his insides seemed to fall out of him, his external appearance stood firm.

This was it, he realised... far more than his 11th birthday, this was the day he stopped being a child. He was out on his own now and he had to be a man, more than that, he had to be, to all outward appearances at least, a Malfoy.

-------------------

tbc

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