Further From Heaven

Okay, so now you know I'm going to Hogwarts. What a strange surprise. Not. Anyways, starting off the second interlude with a poem seemed reasonable enough. I hope you're not "poemed" out. That would be tragic.

Acquainted With the Night by Frost:

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Yes, it's a sonnet. But it's not one of those sappy love sonnets. They don't really say anything at all. This one is about the darker side of human nature. The truth one might say. Anyways... moving along.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Draco stared disdainfully at the paper in his hand. His father was beside him as they stood in the center of Diagon Alley. Lucius Malfoy had business of his own to attend in the vicinity of the alley, but he had agreed to do most of his son's shopping with the boy. Draco, for his part, had been to Diagon Alley more times than he could possibly count. He was entirely comfortable in the bubbling throng of witches and wizards.

He laughed to himself as he scanned the list. "I don't suppose I'll be needing to get much of this."

Lucius glared down over his son's shoulder. "We'll have to waste a bit on the required books. I'm sure they're nothing more than children's toys. Your mother was thinking you might appreciate new robes as well."

"Must I?" Although Draco did not mind the thought of something new, he had been hoping for something out of the Quidditch shop.

"You must." Lucius motioned to the entrance to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "You go in there. I have few matters to attend to elsewhere."

His father thrust a bag full of Galleons at him and swiftly departed. Draco frowned slightly as he watched him go. It was no secret to the boy where his father was headed. Knockturn Alley certainly wasn't the most pleasant place to do business and more than once Draco had wondered why his father ventured into the grimy depths at all. Shaking the notion out of his head, Draco stalked confidently into the robes shop.

Madam Malkin turned swiftly to face him, her face covered in a forced smile. "Why young Mister Malfoy, how charming to see you here again."

He ignored her kind front and simply sneered. "I'll be needing some new robes for Hogwarts."

"Of course." She did not let his tone interfere with her countenance. "Gloria, would you kindly assist Mister Malfoy?"

A younger blonde witch stood up from where she had been seated and motioned for Draco to follow her to the back of the shop. He knew the drill and stepped up onto the stool before she had the chance to ask him to do so. She smiled politely and sweetly inquired, "Is this your first year?"

"Yes," Draco replied in a calculated tone. "But I don't suspect it will be very interesting."

Something about his answer seemed to put her off and she simply nodded. "Oh."

There was a bustling at the front of the shop as someone else entered. Draco did not even bother to glance towards the noise. It was probably just another eager Hogwarts student he surmised. So he was quite unsurprised when Madam Malkin led a boy with round glasses and dark unruly hair to the stool beside his own. The boy let out an aura of discomfort that led Draco to believe he had never been fitted for robes before. What kind of world was he from? Not the Muggle world Draco hoped.

"Hello," Draco carefully initiated a conversation. "Hogwarts, too?"

The boy glanced at him curiously, but nodded. "Yes."

Draco sighed and searched for some sort of conversation material. "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands." The lie slipped off his lips easily. He was, however, truthful in his next statement. "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 other boy adopted a slightly vacant look. He appeared slightly confused as well. Draco shrugged.

"Have you got your own broom?"

The other boy looked vaguely bewildered. "No..."

Draco narrowed his eyes. Something seemed off about this boy. "Play Quidditch at all?"

Once again confusion shaded the other boy's expression. "No."

"I do...Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree." Draco smirked. That was certainly true. "Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No."

Draco was beginning to wonder if the boy knew anything, but decided to let it pass. "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..."

Draco stared at him oddly a moment before turning his attention to movement outside the window. He almost burst out laughing as he observed a giant oaf smiling into the window while wilding waving two ice creams. "I say! Look at that man!"

His companion brightened suddenly. "That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts."

Draco amusement faded instantly. He was going to have to go to a school where that man worked? The fates had to be kidding him. But suddenly a dinner conversation with his father came to mind. Oh yes, he did know about Hagrid, didn't he? Draco smirked. "Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," the other boy responded, sounding affronted.

Draco frowned at him, but resumed smirking as he turned back to Hagrid. "Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage...lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

It really didn't matter if that was true or not. What Draco's father had said was far worse anyways.

"I think he's brilliant."

Draco didn't let the boy's cold tone bother him. Sneering, he replied, "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

A wave of sadness descended on the other boy. "They're dead."

Draco raised his eyebrows and returned an obligatory, "Oh, sorry." He then considered the other boy carefully. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

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

Draco sighed in relief. He'd been beginning to worry he was talking to a Mudblood. "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 the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Draco was only slightly disappointed when Madam Malkin interrupted them. The other boy had not exactly been great company.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," he called after the retreating black head. Once the other boy was gone he turned to Gloria, who was still floating around him. "Aren't you done already?"

She played with a few of her adjustments before nodding. "We do hope you'll come again Mister Malfoy."

Lucius was waiting outside Flourish and Blotts, just as Draco had stated he would be. He couldn't help but smirk. His father, however, gave him a level gaze and motioned for him to move along. "I have an urgent meeting at the Manor. There is no time to waste any more time here."

Draco sighed wistfully as they passed the Quidditch shop. Another day perhaps. He followed carefully behind his father as they exited Diagon Alley.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Draco stared out his window thoughtfully. This was the last day of his summer and in turn the last day spent in his own bedroom. No more dusty ceilings or extravagant beds. He frowned. No more house elves cowering in front of him either. He was going to Hogwarts, for a whole year. His father had instructed him relentlessly on his behavior. There would be no conversing with Mudbloods, Dumbledore or McGonagall unless absolutely necessary. Lucius had also instructed him that rule breaking as a must as long as Draco did not get caught. Getting caught, however, would lead to a fate worse than death when Draco arrived home. The boy didn't doubt that. Finally, Draco had to excel in his classes. Lucius wanted only the best.

Now, he stood alone in his room saying farewell to all that was cold and dark around him. He knew the room would remain untouched until he returned. There were other rooms in the manor and Draco could not see either of his parents willfully setting foot in his wing of building unless there was good reason. He glanced at his wardrobe. Some extremely formal robes remained, but most had been packed away and sent to King's Cross Station ahead of him. With a final disdainful stare at his surroundings, the blonde boy sauntered out of his room and to the entry where his father was waiting for him.

Lucius surveyed his son. "Ready?"

"Yes, father," Draco obediently replied. They walked purposefully down the walkway leading away from the grounds. Like Hogwarts, the grounds of the Manor were impossible to Apparate directly into or out of. Once outside the gate, Lucius preformed a soft incantation before both he and his son Disapparated.

Draco glanced carefully around as he and his father appeared on a quiet street corner in London. An old woman walking her pet Poodle gave him a strange look, but he simply sneered in her direction. Lucius nodded to his son and they started towards the train station, which was only a few blocks away.

Lucius grabbed his son's shoulder roughly before they could enter the station. "You know of Harry Potter?"

Draco frowned, confused, but nodded. "Of course."

"He's in your year at Hogwarts. It would be...most desirable...if you could befriend him. I know he is only a halfblood, but the...friendship... would prove very useful." Lucius stared at his son levelly. The meaning of his words was clear.

"I will do my best, father." Draco scanned the crowd.

"I would expect no less. Now go find your way to the train. Platform nine and three-quarters." Lucius gave his son a small shove towards the interior of the station. Draco looked back. His father rewarded him with a small smirk before turning abruptly and leaving.

The boy sighed. It was the most affection his father had ever shown for him. Turning his attention to the scene between platforms nine and ten, Draco casually slipped through the barrier while the surrounding Muggles paid him no mind. His things had already been packed on the train; the house elves had ensured that fact. Now, all he had to do was find Potter and win him over. At this point, it occurred to Draco that he did not even know what Potter looked like. The scar on his forehead was the only physical thing Draco had heard about at home.

He glanced at the first few people he saw. A family with four boys, all redheads, and a little girl was standing to his left. Another boy, with dark hair and round glasses stood with them. Draco did a silent double take as he glanced back at the dark-haired boy. It was the same boy he had met at Diagon Alley. He inched closer to listen in on the conversation.

Before he could come within hearing distance, however, two lumbering boys accosted him. "Draco!"

"Crabbe and Goyle," he noted. "Do you have your trunks on the train?"

They both nodded, but said nothing. Draco sighed in exasperation. He would have to deal with Potter later.

The two boys in front of him were friends, he supposed. Their families were close and Draco had grown up with the oafs as constant companions. That did not, however, mean that he cared much for them. Although having them trail after him like he was their Lord did make the situation somewhat better.

"Well, let's go then. Don't want to lose a good compartment do we?" He sneered and hurried off with the boys in tow.

The three boys found a nice compartment in the middle of the train. Within seconds of sitting, Crabbe and Goyle were slumped to the sides of their bench, snoring. Draco glared. They certainly were idiots if he had anything to say about it. He'd actually wondered once or twice if there weren't a few Muggles out there who were smarter than those two. It seemed highly likely.

Draco spent the next half hour or so staring out the window with a bored expression on his face. His sharp features never relaxed as he surveyed the countryside. How would he find Potter?

The answer turned out to be easier to find than expected. When the snack cart arrived outside the compartment, the three boys strolled out of the compartment to examine its contents. While Crabbe and Goyle were buying their sweets, Draco turned to another boy beside him.

"Hey, Zabini," Draco spoke softly.

"Malfoy," Blaise Zabini returned just as quietly.

"Do you know where Potter is?" Draco quirked an eyebrow at the other boy. They had known each other since childhood as well. Zabini, however, was not stupid.

Blaise nodded. "Towards the back. Can't miss him and that Weasley."

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "A Weasley?"

"Indeed." Blaise sneered back at him. "I'll be off."

"See you later." Draco returned to his compartment where Crabbe and Goyle were devouring their newly purchased sweets. He would give them time to finish and then find Potter.

Goyle looked up from his Cauldron Cake. "You didn't get anything."

"How very observant of you, Goyle," Draco snapped. The other boy did not notice Draco's tone of voice and kept destroying his cake.

The time passed even more slowly while his two shadows ate. The repulsive sound of smacking lips and chewing filled the compartment. He had to resist the urge to gag every once and awhile when some really foul noise would come from the other side. Finally, the two boys had finished and cleaned themselves. Draco meticulously inspected them. They appeared up to standard. "Come, we're paying the infamous Harry Potter a visit."

The boys followed dutifully to the entrance of Potter's compartment. Blaise was standing opposite the door. "Business, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked at him. "You could say that."

"Have fun." Blaise waved goodbye and traveled back towards Draco's compartment.

"Oh, I will," Draco assured quietly. He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Just follow my lead."

He pushed the door open with a carefully calculated innocent look upon his face. "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment." Draco stared at the boy sitting beside the redhead Weasley. It was the same boy as had been in Madam Malkin's robe shop and the train station earlier. He smirked. "So it's you, is it?"

Potter seemed far more interested in Crabbe and Goyle as he answered. "Yes."

Draco decided to put him out of his misery. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

The Weasley in the compartment gave a slight hitch. Draco controlled his own urge to snigger. Potter was staring at the scene blankly.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco let the question sit for a moment. Then he sneered, "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

His original mission came back to mind as he glanced at the disgusted look on Potter's face. Perhaps that had been taking it a little too far, but he was right. The Weasleys were worthless wizarding scum. It was, however, time to make amends with Potter. "You'll soon find out come wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." He paused and offered a knowing smile to the boy. "I can help you there."

Deciding the best course of action was to remain silent and cordial, Draco held out his hand. Potter had a different idea. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Draco bit his lip in frustration. He felt a slight blush come over him and scowled. The stupid gits probably were thinking he was embarrassed about the rejection. In truth, Draco really couldn't give a damn, but his father had given him a mission and he had failed. It stung. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good from them, either." Draco took a moment to sneer directly at the Weasley. "You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Draco was silently amused as both boys jumped to their feet. He had managed to insult them both in only a matter of seconds. The Weasley looked especially annoyed.

"Say that again!" the redhead retorted.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

Potter looked unsure but replied, "Unless you get out now!"

Draco let his eyes fall upon the contents of the compartment. They still had a lot of food left. He got the impression that it was Potter's. A Weasley couldn't afford that many sweets. "But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle followed the lead and started reaching for a Chocolate Frog. A second later, he let out a high pitch squeal. Draco looked at him in disgust. Goyle was waving his hand frantically around while a rat hung on tightly by its teeth. Draco gave the scene one look and knew that enough really was enough this time. He retreated quickly from the compartment, his eyes seeing red.

When Crabbe and Goyle joined him back in their compartment, he was livid. "Failure."

The two giant boys looked uncomfortable. Goyle's knuckle was bleeding and Crabbe was edging away from both Draco and his companion.

"Failure!" Draco hissed again. "Is not acceptable."

"Next time..." Crabbe started to offer.

Draco glared at him. "Don't speak to me."

Growling in fury, Draco turned to stare out the window at the cows and sheep. Only one thought resonated throughout his mind. Potter was going to pay.