Hogwarts: Year 1
Draco sat solemnly in his father’s study; partially listening to his father’s stern lecture on befriending the right people at Hogwarts, and partially wondering to himself why he was stuck going to Hogwarts and not Durmstrang. His father did not really care where Draco went to school, although Draco was pretty sure he preferred Durmstrang. However, his mother had argued about how far Durmstrang was from home, and how much she would miss Draco. In the end, Draco found himself attending Hogwarts, the same school as all those stupid people his father had forced him to befriend, and all those Weasley’s his father warned him about, and that Harry Potter hero.
Draco halfheartedly listened to his father discuss all the necessary steps Draco should take to ensure that he would be the leader of Slytherin, even as a first year. His father had secured him his own private chambers, as Malfoy’s had a great deal of power, and his father did not want this power to be offset by having him sleep with those other first years. Draco did not care either way—he planned on keeping to his studies, so he could make his father proud. Where he slept and who was in his room was of little concern to Draco, but it certainly had gotten his father worked up. Draco listened to his father discuss Draco’s studies, Quidditch, his house, and another fierce warning about mixing with the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers.
The next day, Draco headed to Diagon Alley with his mother and father. It was time to get his school supplies—all of the best, of course. Draco hoped his father would actually accompany him on this trip, rather than leave him alone in the middle of Diagon Alley as usual. However, much to his dismay, as soon as they got there his father whisked off towards Flourish and Blotts, where he was going to quickly buy Draco’s books before heading off to take care of business in Knockturn Alley. Draco felt his mother grasp him firmly by the shoulder and turn him in the direction of Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Once he was inside, she gave him more than enough Galleons for brand-new, top quality robes, and then she left to go look into wands.
Draco stood on a stool in the back of the shop as Madam Malkin started to drape luxurious black robes over his head and pin them to the proper length. He stood there, staring out the window at the front of the store, watching the people bustle by. He remembered the times where he and Ginny had walked down the street together, looking at all amazing stuff in the shop. He would miss those days—because now he would be going off to Hogwarts, and she was still one year too young. She was the only person who ever made his life fun. He imagined walking down the street holding her hand, and buying her an ice cream cone, and then laughing with her all the way up and down the street.
His concentration was suddenly broken as a boy with unruly jet-black hair stepped up on the stool next to him. He was wearing oversized Muggle clothes, and he seemed entirely lost. That’s a mudblood if I ever did see one—Draco thought to himself, looking down upon the boy.
“Hello,” Draco started, a haughty expression on his face, “Hogwarts, too?”
“Yes,” the boy replied, not offering much of an answer.
Draco continued to talk, apathetically, about his father and mother, Quidditch, and houses at Hogwarts. The boy seemed completely clueless about everything. Draco smirked arrogantly, and talked to the boy until the boy was finished getting his robes. Draco thought about his encounter with the boy—that was the type of person his father had told him specifically to avoid. Well, if they were that easy to recognize, he thought to himself, then this should be no problem.
He paid Madam Malkin for the robes, and slowly wandered back out to the street. He turned towards Ollivander’s, where he was sure to find his mother. He did not really understand why his mother had gone there without him—he would need to get his own wand anyway. She probably was not even there, he figured. She had probably gone off to get a manicure and a new haircut, or something like that. He bitterly glared around the town. All the other children he saw were walking with their parents, spending time together. Draco knew that would never happen with his parents. He turned around and stalked off in the other direction for a moment, thinking he would just go sit somewhere by himself. Then he decided it was not worth it to go hide and make them look for him, because they probably would just leave him there. He sighed audibly, and started walking again towards Ollivander’s, when he noticed a ginger hair bouncing up on his left side.
“Draco!” Ginny cried, giving him a huge hug and an even bigger smile. He returned the hug quickly, while looking around nervously to see if his parents were nearby. They weren’t.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Ginny, as pleasantly as he could.
“Oh, my brother is shopping for school supplies,” she said. “You’re shopping for supplies too!” She added, pointing at his bag. “You’re so lucky, I wish I could come with you. You’re my only friend—I don’t know what I’m going to do by myself this year” she added sadly.
Draco looked at her, “I’ll write you, Ginny, and then next year I’ll see you.” He was suddenly distracted by a ginger haired boy following two ginger haired adults into a shop. So that’s what a Weasley looks like, he thought to himself. Turning back to Ginny, they engaged in a friendly conversation for a few minutes, before he realized that he should probably go look for his mother to get his wand. “Ginny, I have to go now—to get my wand, and the rest of my supplies.”
“It’s okay, I’ll see you around,” she said, embracing him again. This time, he returned the hug. His father was not nearby, and he did not see his mother either.
“I’ll be waiting for you at Hogwarts,” he said, giving her a genuine smile. She smiled back happily, and then kissed him on the cheek before scampering off towards the bookstore. Draco happily walked up the street and into Ollivander’s. Like he expected, his mother was not there, but he got his own wand with the gold his mother had given him, and then he wandered around Diagon Alley collecting the rest of his supplies. By the time he was done, he could see his mother and father walking slowly down the street. He went to join them, checking if they had actually bought what they had supposed to buy for him before they all headed home.
Draco packed all of his new stuff into his trunk, and then lay on his bed looking at his ceiling. He really would miss seeing Ginny—recently they had been seeing each other a couple times a week at the Ministry, swapping secrets and talking about anything. He probably would not get to meet people like her at Hogwarts, since he was almost certain that she was not the type of girl to be in Slytherin. He sighed, and stared intently at the ceiling thinking about Ginny for a long while before slowly drifting off to sleep.
~*~
Ginny sadly followed her brothers through Platform 9 ¾--already it was the end of summer, and everyone was leaving her this year. Charlie and Bill did not live at home anyway, and now Ron was going to join Fred, George and Percy at Hogwarts, which left Ginny all alone without any siblings to keep her company. Not to mention the fact that Draco was leaving for school as well.
“Now, what’s the platform number?” asked her mother as she struggled to keep track of the four boys.
“Nine and three-quarters!” Ginny said eagerly, “Mom, can’t I go . . .”
“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet,” replied her mother. Ginny sadly shuffled her feet along the ground—she was never old enough to do anything. Not only did she have to be the youngest, but she was also the only girl, so it seemed to her that they were even more cautious with her. Ginny watched her brothers pass through the platform, and a black haired boy who seemed completely lost. Then she and her mother passed through, and Ginny saw the glorious Hogwarts Express, shining brilliantly. Students were bustling all around her, and she lost her mother in the crowd—it happened every year though. She knew she would find her mother once the crowd died down. Besides, her mother was distracted by getting the four boys and all of their luggage onto the train before it was time to leave. She sighed and stood, watching students pile onto the train. Someone tapped her from behind.
“Hey Gin,” said Draco, holding out his arms, “I just wanted to say good-bye before I go.” Ginny gladly accepted the hug.
“Where are your parents, aren’t they here to see you off?” She asked curiously, her mother always watched her brothers until the train was out of sight every year.
“Oh, they just dropped me off here and left, they had important business to take care of,” he said, shrugging, as he gave her another hug. “I’ll see you in a year, okay?”
Suddenly, Ginny felt a lump well up inside her throat as the reality of how everyone was leaving dawned on her for real. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, looking at him through teary eyes.
Draco had not seen her cry before, and it certainly unnerved him. She was usually so optimistic and happy, and now she was teary eyed and uncertain. “It’ll be all right,” he said, trying to think of what to say to consol her. “I’ll write you, and next year you’ll be there too.”
Ginny buried her head in his shoulder for a moment, and then looked up, “I’ll see you next summer,” she said, giving him another hug before releasing. Draco smiled at her, and then started towards the train. Ginny wandered back through the crowd in the direction of her mother, where Fred, George and Ron were saying their last good-byes.
“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose,” her mother said as she tried to brush off something from Ron’s nose. Ginny laughed as the twins teased her brother. Suddenly, Percy strode over from the front of the train, proudly displaying his prefect badge. They all said their good-byes, and the twins told their mother about how they had seen Harry Potter.
Ginny had heard many tales about Harry Potter, “Oh, Mom, can I go see him, Mom, oh please . . .” Ginny heard herself say, trying to think of one last way to go join her brothers on the train.
“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo,” her mother told her. Ginny zoned out on the rest of the conversation, looking up and down the windows of the train. As her brothers climbed onto the train, she noticed Draco through one of the windows several cars back. She smiled at him, but suddenly, she could not handle everyone leaving her and she burst into tears as Fred, George and Ron were leaning out the window to say their final good-byes.
The train slowly began to pull away from the platform, and Ginny chased after it, hysterically torn between tears and laughter. She could not bear to have everyone leave her—if only she were a year older. The train was moving away too fast now, and she could not keep up—she was going to run out of platform soon anyway. Defeated, Ginny stopped chasing the train, and resigned herself to waving at her brothers and Draco as the train chugged off into the distance and out of sight
~*~
Draco gazed sorrowfully back to where Platform 9 ¾ had disappeared out of sight. What he would not give to be able to spend time with people who were not so stuffy and fake. He looked around the compartment he was sitting in. He was surrounded by his father’s friend’s children—the people he had been forced to befriend despite their utter stupidity. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were sitting in the corner of the compartment, making animalistic grunting noises and fighting over a box of Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Pasties. Pansy Parkinson, the girl his father had hinted at to be an excellent choice of a female mate, was sitting by herself, but staring at Draco expectantly, as though he was supposed to start some sort of conversation with her.
He rolled his eyes and allowed a smug expression to cover his face. It was not his problem she was bored, nor was it his problem that she chose to sit with him and the dunces in the corner. He did not fancy her presence—he had better things to do than discuss the latest gossip with her as she blatantly flirted with him. Abruptly standing, Draco motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. He felt like wandering the rest of the train, and although he was not fond of those two, they had a foreboding aura about them which would help to keep the other first years in their place.
Draco started down the corridor, peering into the windows of the compartments as he passed. Many of them were full of older students, clearly distracted by reminiscing with their friends, and catching up on each other’s summer breaks. Several compartments down, he looked in and saw Blaise Zabini reading a large book. Draco had been introduced to Blaise by his father once. His father was not overly fond of the Zabini’s, but Blaise was pureblood, and it was acceptable for Draco to befriend him.
Leaving Crabbe and Goyle out in the hallway so they could get food from the food cart, Draco stepped into Blaise’s compartment and said hello to him, asking him how his family was and about his summer. He also met a large girl in there named Millicent Bulstrode. Her name sounded familiar, but he knew he had never met her—he would have remembered her heavy, square set figure. Nevertheless, he introduced himself as his father had told him to—he figured he best meet as many people as possible.
“Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy,” he said firmly, putting a certain emphasis on his surname. Anyone honorable in the wizarding world would know of his last name—his father had said so.
“Ahh, Draco Malfoy, my family has told me so much about your family,” Millicent said, shaking his hand. Draco smiled smugly in response.
“So Draco,” started Blaise, peering over the top of his book, “Did you hear about Harry Potter? They say he’s in the compartment next to ours.” Draco tried not to show any expression at this statement—Malfoys never showed facial expression other than smugness. His father had always told him to never let people know what he was thinking. He never had—except with Ginny, of course. Draco knew he should probably visit Harry Potter next—he would certainly be someone important to befriend.
Draco curtly nodded at Blaise and responded, “Yes, I heard about that,” even though he had not. Draco did not want them to think that he cared about such petty details as where Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was sitting on the train. Draco said his farewells, and turned to go next door to Harry Potter’s compartment.
He looked into the window, and he noticed the compartment was empty except for Harry Potter—who happened to be the same black-haired boy from Madam Malkin’s shop, and a red-hair boy. Draco gestured to Crabbe and Goyle to stop gorging and to join him. Draco stepped inside the compartment regally, looking down upon the two boys, who seemed to be caught up in some sort of story about Quidditch.
“Is it true?” Draco asked curiously, but with an air of superiority, “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”
“Yes,” said Harry, who seemed uncertain as to Draco’s motives, and was looking timidly to Crabbe and Goyle’s huge frames. He looked somewhat unnerved by the whole situation, and he did not seem to want to talk about himself all that much.
“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” Draco offered, gesturing towards the large figures standing to his sides. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” he said, putting that certain emphasis on his surname again, so Harry Potter would be sure not to forget it. The red haired boy coughed slightly, as though he was trying to hide laughter under his breath. Draco’s father had told him not to allow people to mock him. Draco sneered and looked haughtily at the red-haired boy, “Think my name’s funny, do you? 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.” The ginger-haired boy looked taken aback and very upset at Draco’s comment. Draco did not care though—if there was one family his father had told him to avoid, it was most certainly the Weasleys. He turned back to Harry and continued, “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” Draco knew that he was offering Harry the best advice—after all, this was the single most important thing his father had ever told him. Draco held his hand out to Harry, offering a handshake to seal the friendship.
Harry stared at Draco in disbelief, and refused to return Draco’s handshake. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said, completely rejecting Draco. Feeling a slight blush rise to his cheeks, Draco indignantly stared at Harry for a moment—how could he shun Draco Malfoy’s friendship? Draco would have to tell his father about this; never before had he been rejected by anyone. He was less than pleased. Contemplating whether to ignore Harry’s blatant dismissal, or whether to try to convince Harry the benefits of his friendship, Draco remembered the stories his father had told him, and then said slowly, “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 for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.” He had not meant for his statement to sound as offensive as it did, but as soon as he had finished speaking, both Harry and Ron stood suddenly, glaring daggers at him.
“Say that again,” Ron said angrily, practically inviting Draco to fight him.
Draco did not intend to fight though—his father had brought him up better than that. He sneered at that darned Weasley and fiercely said “Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Draco had always been told never to start fights, but if someone were to pick a fight with him, then he was more than welcome to finish it.
“Unless you get out now,” stated Harry, still standing and ready to fight if necessary. Draco noticed he seemed a little timid, but he was doing a decent job at hiding it in his voice. Smirking, Draco stared at Harry Potter a moment more before speaking again.
“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.” He glanced towards Crabbe and Goyle, giving them visual affirmation that they could wreak havoc. Goyle grinned and reached out towards the Chocolate Frogs that were sitting next to Weasley. Draco watched as the Weasley began to jump forward, trying to stop Goyle—Draco knew it would not work though. Weasley was clearly no match for Goyle. However, just as Goyle was about to close his giant hand over a Chocolate Frog, he had pulled away, quick as lightning, yelling horribly and shaking his hand in pain. Draco looked and saw a nasty old rat hanging off of Goyle’s finger. Not wanting to get in trouble, Draco gestured for Crabbe to leave, and as soon as Goyle had catapulted the rat from his finger into the window, the three of them scampered off to return to their compartment.
There was no one en route to their compartment, and when they got there Draco was pleased to see that Pansy had left. She was a waste of his time anyway—he would rather talk to girls like Ginny, who were not as concerned as class and social standing. He rolled his eyes at Goyle, who was making strange animalistic noises which sounded like an odd mixture of whimpering and grunting as he tried to stop the bleeding on his finger.
Draco, not wanting to talk to them any more, pulled on his luxurious school robes over his clothes, and retreated to the corner of the compartment, where he fully intended to sit and enjoy his solitude. He could see that he was not off to such a great start. He had managed to make an enemy of the Weasley (which he had anticipated), but he had also alienated Harry Potter as well. Draco had not meant to upset Potter, but it had just happened—how was he to know that Potter did not value class and having pureblood friends. Draco shook his head and stared out the window. Perhaps he would write to Ginny once he was settled in his chambers—he could tell her about his first day, probably leaving out the bad parts. She would get upset if he told her about his pursuit of pureblood friends—she was pureblooded, but she was not fond of those who were particular about such things. She pretty much liked everybody. He sighed and laid back into his seat, waiting for the train to arrive at Hogwarts.
~*~
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” Draco heard a loud voice call. He looked over, and saw that giant oaf Hagrid standing, waving maniacally trying to attract all the first years’ attention. Draco could not believe anyone could possibly miss that fool. Draco idly listened as Hagrid told them to get into groups of four, as he ushered them onto little boats.
Draco found himself in the company of Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, who was fawning over him again. In order to distract himself from her ridiculous antics, Draco mused as to how the small boat could possibly hold the weight of Crabbe and Goyle without snapping in half and sinking to the bottom of the lake. Obviously, the boats must have been magically reinforced, because it was just not physically possible otherwise.
Upon reaching the shore, Draco yawned as the first years filed out of the boats and timidly followed Hagrid up to the front of the castle gates. They seemed amazing by the huge castle, and they all walked, wide eyed with their mouths gaping open, staring at the many towers and turrets. Draco rolled his eyes—the castle was extraordinary, but honestly, were they expecting anything less? Hogwarts was supposed to be one of the greatest wizarding schools of all time—some of the most famous witches and wizards had gone to Hogwarts. Draco was surprised at how stunned his fellow classmates were.
Hagrid knocked soundly on the castle gates, thrice, and they promptly swung open to reveal a very severe looking witch. Draco distractedly listened to her tell everyone about Hogwarts and the four school houses. Honestly, if they did not know what the four houses were already, then they did not belong here. Draco already knew which house he would be in—his father had told him. Slytherin. It was where many of the most powerful witches and wizards had been; his father himself had been in Slytherin. Draco smiled smugly at the rest of the scared students standing around him, nervously talking to each other about what house they wanted to be in.
Soon enough, the first years were walking into the Great Hall to the sorting ceremony. Draco was getting tired of this whole introduction ritual. He just wanted to be sorted to he could sit down and eat. The sorting went quicker than he expected, and soon enough he was sitting at the Slytherin table, sampling the many varieties of Hogwarts food. He had to admit, the Hogwarts house elves were very talented chefs. He looked around the Great Hall, noticing where all the other first years had gotten sorted. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Pansy had all gotten sorted into Slytherin, along with some other students—most of which Draco had met before through his father. He knew many of the older Slytherins as well. He looked over to the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter was sitting, along with an obnoxious fluffy-haired brunette he had met in the halls, and a whole clan of Weasleys. His father was right—Weasleys were downright horrible, with their bright, clashing hair, and their secondhand apparel. At least Ginny was not a Weasley. Well, he did not know that for sure, seeing as he did not know Ginny’s surname; however, he was fairly certain that the Weasley family was comprised of six sons. His father had never spoken of a Weasley girl. Draco glanced around at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables—he had seen a few of those students before, but his father associated mostly with Slytherins.
After finishing his meal and listening to Headmaster Dumbledore lead the school in a horrible rendition of what he called the ‘school song,’ Draco was finally able to head to his private chambers. He had gotten the password to his dormitory from a prefect at dinner, and he had found the Slytherin common room easily—his father had given him vague directions on how to get to all the most important places on campus, like the dorms, the Quidditch field, and the kitchens. He said the password (‘superiority’), and retreated into his private chambers, where his trunk was already sitting.
Draco pulled a piece of parchment from his truck and his best black quill, and sat down at his desk and wrote a simple letter to Ginny, detailing his day—or the better parts of it. He dripped a few dots of hot wax to seal it, and summoned his owl to take the letter to Ginny. After, he checked his appearance in the mirror, wiping the imaginary dust off of his robes, before he headed out into the common room to regally greet his dorm mates.
A/N: This is just the first part of Draco's first year--it used to be one big chapter, but I split it because I decided to do smaller chapters from now on, and this one was just too long.
Draco sat solemnly in his father’s study; partially listening to his father’s stern lecture on befriending the right people at Hogwarts, and partially wondering to himself why he was stuck going to Hogwarts and not Durmstrang. His father did not really care where Draco went to school, although Draco was pretty sure he preferred Durmstrang. However, his mother had argued about how far Durmstrang was from home, and how much she would miss Draco. In the end, Draco found himself attending Hogwarts, the same school as all those stupid people his father had forced him to befriend, and all those Weasley’s his father warned him about, and that Harry Potter hero.
Draco halfheartedly listened to his father discuss all the necessary steps Draco should take to ensure that he would be the leader of Slytherin, even as a first year. His father had secured him his own private chambers, as Malfoy’s had a great deal of power, and his father did not want this power to be offset by having him sleep with those other first years. Draco did not care either way—he planned on keeping to his studies, so he could make his father proud. Where he slept and who was in his room was of little concern to Draco, but it certainly had gotten his father worked up. Draco listened to his father discuss Draco’s studies, Quidditch, his house, and another fierce warning about mixing with the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers.
The next day, Draco headed to Diagon Alley with his mother and father. It was time to get his school supplies—all of the best, of course. Draco hoped his father would actually accompany him on this trip, rather than leave him alone in the middle of Diagon Alley as usual. However, much to his dismay, as soon as they got there his father whisked off towards Flourish and Blotts, where he was going to quickly buy Draco’s books before heading off to take care of business in Knockturn Alley. Draco felt his mother grasp him firmly by the shoulder and turn him in the direction of Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Once he was inside, she gave him more than enough Galleons for brand-new, top quality robes, and then she left to go look into wands.
Draco stood on a stool in the back of the shop as Madam Malkin started to drape luxurious black robes over his head and pin them to the proper length. He stood there, staring out the window at the front of the store, watching the people bustle by. He remembered the times where he and Ginny had walked down the street together, looking at all amazing stuff in the shop. He would miss those days—because now he would be going off to Hogwarts, and she was still one year too young. She was the only person who ever made his life fun. He imagined walking down the street holding her hand, and buying her an ice cream cone, and then laughing with her all the way up and down the street.
His concentration was suddenly broken as a boy with unruly jet-black hair stepped up on the stool next to him. He was wearing oversized Muggle clothes, and he seemed entirely lost. That’s a mudblood if I ever did see one—Draco thought to himself, looking down upon the boy.
“Hello,” Draco started, a haughty expression on his face, “Hogwarts, too?”
“Yes,” the boy replied, not offering much of an answer.
Draco continued to talk, apathetically, about his father and mother, Quidditch, and houses at Hogwarts. The boy seemed completely clueless about everything. Draco smirked arrogantly, and talked to the boy until the boy was finished getting his robes. Draco thought about his encounter with the boy—that was the type of person his father had told him specifically to avoid. Well, if they were that easy to recognize, he thought to himself, then this should be no problem.
He paid Madam Malkin for the robes, and slowly wandered back out to the street. He turned towards Ollivander’s, where he was sure to find his mother. He did not really understand why his mother had gone there without him—he would need to get his own wand anyway. She probably was not even there, he figured. She had probably gone off to get a manicure and a new haircut, or something like that. He bitterly glared around the town. All the other children he saw were walking with their parents, spending time together. Draco knew that would never happen with his parents. He turned around and stalked off in the other direction for a moment, thinking he would just go sit somewhere by himself. Then he decided it was not worth it to go hide and make them look for him, because they probably would just leave him there. He sighed audibly, and started walking again towards Ollivander’s, when he noticed a ginger hair bouncing up on his left side.
“Draco!” Ginny cried, giving him a huge hug and an even bigger smile. He returned the hug quickly, while looking around nervously to see if his parents were nearby. They weren’t.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Ginny, as pleasantly as he could.
“Oh, my brother is shopping for school supplies,” she said. “You’re shopping for supplies too!” She added, pointing at his bag. “You’re so lucky, I wish I could come with you. You’re my only friend—I don’t know what I’m going to do by myself this year” she added sadly.
Draco looked at her, “I’ll write you, Ginny, and then next year I’ll see you.” He was suddenly distracted by a ginger haired boy following two ginger haired adults into a shop. So that’s what a Weasley looks like, he thought to himself. Turning back to Ginny, they engaged in a friendly conversation for a few minutes, before he realized that he should probably go look for his mother to get his wand. “Ginny, I have to go now—to get my wand, and the rest of my supplies.”
“It’s okay, I’ll see you around,” she said, embracing him again. This time, he returned the hug. His father was not nearby, and he did not see his mother either.
“I’ll be waiting for you at Hogwarts,” he said, giving her a genuine smile. She smiled back happily, and then kissed him on the cheek before scampering off towards the bookstore. Draco happily walked up the street and into Ollivander’s. Like he expected, his mother was not there, but he got his own wand with the gold his mother had given him, and then he wandered around Diagon Alley collecting the rest of his supplies. By the time he was done, he could see his mother and father walking slowly down the street. He went to join them, checking if they had actually bought what they had supposed to buy for him before they all headed home.
Draco packed all of his new stuff into his trunk, and then lay on his bed looking at his ceiling. He really would miss seeing Ginny—recently they had been seeing each other a couple times a week at the Ministry, swapping secrets and talking about anything. He probably would not get to meet people like her at Hogwarts, since he was almost certain that she was not the type of girl to be in Slytherin. He sighed, and stared intently at the ceiling thinking about Ginny for a long while before slowly drifting off to sleep.
~*~
Ginny sadly followed her brothers through Platform 9 ¾--already it was the end of summer, and everyone was leaving her this year. Charlie and Bill did not live at home anyway, and now Ron was going to join Fred, George and Percy at Hogwarts, which left Ginny all alone without any siblings to keep her company. Not to mention the fact that Draco was leaving for school as well.
“Now, what’s the platform number?” asked her mother as she struggled to keep track of the four boys.
“Nine and three-quarters!” Ginny said eagerly, “Mom, can’t I go . . .”
“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet,” replied her mother. Ginny sadly shuffled her feet along the ground—she was never old enough to do anything. Not only did she have to be the youngest, but she was also the only girl, so it seemed to her that they were even more cautious with her. Ginny watched her brothers pass through the platform, and a black haired boy who seemed completely lost. Then she and her mother passed through, and Ginny saw the glorious Hogwarts Express, shining brilliantly. Students were bustling all around her, and she lost her mother in the crowd—it happened every year though. She knew she would find her mother once the crowd died down. Besides, her mother was distracted by getting the four boys and all of their luggage onto the train before it was time to leave. She sighed and stood, watching students pile onto the train. Someone tapped her from behind.
“Hey Gin,” said Draco, holding out his arms, “I just wanted to say good-bye before I go.” Ginny gladly accepted the hug.
“Where are your parents, aren’t they here to see you off?” She asked curiously, her mother always watched her brothers until the train was out of sight every year.
“Oh, they just dropped me off here and left, they had important business to take care of,” he said, shrugging, as he gave her another hug. “I’ll see you in a year, okay?”
Suddenly, Ginny felt a lump well up inside her throat as the reality of how everyone was leaving dawned on her for real. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, looking at him through teary eyes.
Draco had not seen her cry before, and it certainly unnerved him. She was usually so optimistic and happy, and now she was teary eyed and uncertain. “It’ll be all right,” he said, trying to think of what to say to consol her. “I’ll write you, and next year you’ll be there too.”
Ginny buried her head in his shoulder for a moment, and then looked up, “I’ll see you next summer,” she said, giving him another hug before releasing. Draco smiled at her, and then started towards the train. Ginny wandered back through the crowd in the direction of her mother, where Fred, George and Ron were saying their last good-byes.
“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose,” her mother said as she tried to brush off something from Ron’s nose. Ginny laughed as the twins teased her brother. Suddenly, Percy strode over from the front of the train, proudly displaying his prefect badge. They all said their good-byes, and the twins told their mother about how they had seen Harry Potter.
Ginny had heard many tales about Harry Potter, “Oh, Mom, can I go see him, Mom, oh please . . .” Ginny heard herself say, trying to think of one last way to go join her brothers on the train.
“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo,” her mother told her. Ginny zoned out on the rest of the conversation, looking up and down the windows of the train. As her brothers climbed onto the train, she noticed Draco through one of the windows several cars back. She smiled at him, but suddenly, she could not handle everyone leaving her and she burst into tears as Fred, George and Ron were leaning out the window to say their final good-byes.
The train slowly began to pull away from the platform, and Ginny chased after it, hysterically torn between tears and laughter. She could not bear to have everyone leave her—if only she were a year older. The train was moving away too fast now, and she could not keep up—she was going to run out of platform soon anyway. Defeated, Ginny stopped chasing the train, and resigned herself to waving at her brothers and Draco as the train chugged off into the distance and out of sight
~*~
Draco gazed sorrowfully back to where Platform 9 ¾ had disappeared out of sight. What he would not give to be able to spend time with people who were not so stuffy and fake. He looked around the compartment he was sitting in. He was surrounded by his father’s friend’s children—the people he had been forced to befriend despite their utter stupidity. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were sitting in the corner of the compartment, making animalistic grunting noises and fighting over a box of Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Pasties. Pansy Parkinson, the girl his father had hinted at to be an excellent choice of a female mate, was sitting by herself, but staring at Draco expectantly, as though he was supposed to start some sort of conversation with her.
He rolled his eyes and allowed a smug expression to cover his face. It was not his problem she was bored, nor was it his problem that she chose to sit with him and the dunces in the corner. He did not fancy her presence—he had better things to do than discuss the latest gossip with her as she blatantly flirted with him. Abruptly standing, Draco motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. He felt like wandering the rest of the train, and although he was not fond of those two, they had a foreboding aura about them which would help to keep the other first years in their place.
Draco started down the corridor, peering into the windows of the compartments as he passed. Many of them were full of older students, clearly distracted by reminiscing with their friends, and catching up on each other’s summer breaks. Several compartments down, he looked in and saw Blaise Zabini reading a large book. Draco had been introduced to Blaise by his father once. His father was not overly fond of the Zabini’s, but Blaise was pureblood, and it was acceptable for Draco to befriend him.
Leaving Crabbe and Goyle out in the hallway so they could get food from the food cart, Draco stepped into Blaise’s compartment and said hello to him, asking him how his family was and about his summer. He also met a large girl in there named Millicent Bulstrode. Her name sounded familiar, but he knew he had never met her—he would have remembered her heavy, square set figure. Nevertheless, he introduced himself as his father had told him to—he figured he best meet as many people as possible.
“Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy,” he said firmly, putting a certain emphasis on his surname. Anyone honorable in the wizarding world would know of his last name—his father had said so.
“Ahh, Draco Malfoy, my family has told me so much about your family,” Millicent said, shaking his hand. Draco smiled smugly in response.
“So Draco,” started Blaise, peering over the top of his book, “Did you hear about Harry Potter? They say he’s in the compartment next to ours.” Draco tried not to show any expression at this statement—Malfoys never showed facial expression other than smugness. His father had always told him to never let people know what he was thinking. He never had—except with Ginny, of course. Draco knew he should probably visit Harry Potter next—he would certainly be someone important to befriend.
Draco curtly nodded at Blaise and responded, “Yes, I heard about that,” even though he had not. Draco did not want them to think that he cared about such petty details as where Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was sitting on the train. Draco said his farewells, and turned to go next door to Harry Potter’s compartment.
He looked into the window, and he noticed the compartment was empty except for Harry Potter—who happened to be the same black-haired boy from Madam Malkin’s shop, and a red-hair boy. Draco gestured to Crabbe and Goyle to stop gorging and to join him. Draco stepped inside the compartment regally, looking down upon the two boys, who seemed to be caught up in some sort of story about Quidditch.
“Is it true?” Draco asked curiously, but with an air of superiority, “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”
“Yes,” said Harry, who seemed uncertain as to Draco’s motives, and was looking timidly to Crabbe and Goyle’s huge frames. He looked somewhat unnerved by the whole situation, and he did not seem to want to talk about himself all that much.
“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” Draco offered, gesturing towards the large figures standing to his sides. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” he said, putting that certain emphasis on his surname again, so Harry Potter would be sure not to forget it. The red haired boy coughed slightly, as though he was trying to hide laughter under his breath. Draco’s father had told him not to allow people to mock him. Draco sneered and looked haughtily at the red-haired boy, “Think my name’s funny, do you? 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.” The ginger-haired boy looked taken aback and very upset at Draco’s comment. Draco did not care though—if there was one family his father had told him to avoid, it was most certainly the Weasleys. He turned back to Harry and continued, “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” Draco knew that he was offering Harry the best advice—after all, this was the single most important thing his father had ever told him. Draco held his hand out to Harry, offering a handshake to seal the friendship.
Harry stared at Draco in disbelief, and refused to return Draco’s handshake. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said, completely rejecting Draco. Feeling a slight blush rise to his cheeks, Draco indignantly stared at Harry for a moment—how could he shun Draco Malfoy’s friendship? Draco would have to tell his father about this; never before had he been rejected by anyone. He was less than pleased. Contemplating whether to ignore Harry’s blatant dismissal, or whether to try to convince Harry the benefits of his friendship, Draco remembered the stories his father had told him, and then said slowly, “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 for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.” He had not meant for his statement to sound as offensive as it did, but as soon as he had finished speaking, both Harry and Ron stood suddenly, glaring daggers at him.
“Say that again,” Ron said angrily, practically inviting Draco to fight him.
Draco did not intend to fight though—his father had brought him up better than that. He sneered at that darned Weasley and fiercely said “Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Draco had always been told never to start fights, but if someone were to pick a fight with him, then he was more than welcome to finish it.
“Unless you get out now,” stated Harry, still standing and ready to fight if necessary. Draco noticed he seemed a little timid, but he was doing a decent job at hiding it in his voice. Smirking, Draco stared at Harry Potter a moment more before speaking again.
“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.” He glanced towards Crabbe and Goyle, giving them visual affirmation that they could wreak havoc. Goyle grinned and reached out towards the Chocolate Frogs that were sitting next to Weasley. Draco watched as the Weasley began to jump forward, trying to stop Goyle—Draco knew it would not work though. Weasley was clearly no match for Goyle. However, just as Goyle was about to close his giant hand over a Chocolate Frog, he had pulled away, quick as lightning, yelling horribly and shaking his hand in pain. Draco looked and saw a nasty old rat hanging off of Goyle’s finger. Not wanting to get in trouble, Draco gestured for Crabbe to leave, and as soon as Goyle had catapulted the rat from his finger into the window, the three of them scampered off to return to their compartment.
There was no one en route to their compartment, and when they got there Draco was pleased to see that Pansy had left. She was a waste of his time anyway—he would rather talk to girls like Ginny, who were not as concerned as class and social standing. He rolled his eyes at Goyle, who was making strange animalistic noises which sounded like an odd mixture of whimpering and grunting as he tried to stop the bleeding on his finger.
Draco, not wanting to talk to them any more, pulled on his luxurious school robes over his clothes, and retreated to the corner of the compartment, where he fully intended to sit and enjoy his solitude. He could see that he was not off to such a great start. He had managed to make an enemy of the Weasley (which he had anticipated), but he had also alienated Harry Potter as well. Draco had not meant to upset Potter, but it had just happened—how was he to know that Potter did not value class and having pureblood friends. Draco shook his head and stared out the window. Perhaps he would write to Ginny once he was settled in his chambers—he could tell her about his first day, probably leaving out the bad parts. She would get upset if he told her about his pursuit of pureblood friends—she was pureblooded, but she was not fond of those who were particular about such things. She pretty much liked everybody. He sighed and laid back into his seat, waiting for the train to arrive at Hogwarts.
~*~
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” Draco heard a loud voice call. He looked over, and saw that giant oaf Hagrid standing, waving maniacally trying to attract all the first years’ attention. Draco could not believe anyone could possibly miss that fool. Draco idly listened as Hagrid told them to get into groups of four, as he ushered them onto little boats.
Draco found himself in the company of Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, who was fawning over him again. In order to distract himself from her ridiculous antics, Draco mused as to how the small boat could possibly hold the weight of Crabbe and Goyle without snapping in half and sinking to the bottom of the lake. Obviously, the boats must have been magically reinforced, because it was just not physically possible otherwise.
Upon reaching the shore, Draco yawned as the first years filed out of the boats and timidly followed Hagrid up to the front of the castle gates. They seemed amazing by the huge castle, and they all walked, wide eyed with their mouths gaping open, staring at the many towers and turrets. Draco rolled his eyes—the castle was extraordinary, but honestly, were they expecting anything less? Hogwarts was supposed to be one of the greatest wizarding schools of all time—some of the most famous witches and wizards had gone to Hogwarts. Draco was surprised at how stunned his fellow classmates were.
Hagrid knocked soundly on the castle gates, thrice, and they promptly swung open to reveal a very severe looking witch. Draco distractedly listened to her tell everyone about Hogwarts and the four school houses. Honestly, if they did not know what the four houses were already, then they did not belong here. Draco already knew which house he would be in—his father had told him. Slytherin. It was where many of the most powerful witches and wizards had been; his father himself had been in Slytherin. Draco smiled smugly at the rest of the scared students standing around him, nervously talking to each other about what house they wanted to be in.
Soon enough, the first years were walking into the Great Hall to the sorting ceremony. Draco was getting tired of this whole introduction ritual. He just wanted to be sorted to he could sit down and eat. The sorting went quicker than he expected, and soon enough he was sitting at the Slytherin table, sampling the many varieties of Hogwarts food. He had to admit, the Hogwarts house elves were very talented chefs. He looked around the Great Hall, noticing where all the other first years had gotten sorted. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Pansy had all gotten sorted into Slytherin, along with some other students—most of which Draco had met before through his father. He knew many of the older Slytherins as well. He looked over to the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter was sitting, along with an obnoxious fluffy-haired brunette he had met in the halls, and a whole clan of Weasleys. His father was right—Weasleys were downright horrible, with their bright, clashing hair, and their secondhand apparel. At least Ginny was not a Weasley. Well, he did not know that for sure, seeing as he did not know Ginny’s surname; however, he was fairly certain that the Weasley family was comprised of six sons. His father had never spoken of a Weasley girl. Draco glanced around at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables—he had seen a few of those students before, but his father associated mostly with Slytherins.
After finishing his meal and listening to Headmaster Dumbledore lead the school in a horrible rendition of what he called the ‘school song,’ Draco was finally able to head to his private chambers. He had gotten the password to his dormitory from a prefect at dinner, and he had found the Slytherin common room easily—his father had given him vague directions on how to get to all the most important places on campus, like the dorms, the Quidditch field, and the kitchens. He said the password (‘superiority’), and retreated into his private chambers, where his trunk was already sitting.
Draco pulled a piece of parchment from his truck and his best black quill, and sat down at his desk and wrote a simple letter to Ginny, detailing his day—or the better parts of it. He dripped a few dots of hot wax to seal it, and summoned his owl to take the letter to Ginny. After, he checked his appearance in the mirror, wiping the imaginary dust off of his robes, before he headed out into the common room to regally greet his dorm mates.
A/N: This is just the first part of Draco's first year--it used to be one big chapter, but I split it because I decided to do smaller chapters from now on, and this one was just too long.
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