2Draco Malfoy sat alone at the Slytherin table, far away from the prying eyes of his fellow eight-year students, and even a few professors. The Hat had sung today, of a new era, of new beginnings and a new life. The words weighed heavy on Draco, he forced himself to look up from the small spot on the table at Professor McGonagall, but a familiar mop of black hair caught his eyes. No, he thought, stop.
"Ahem," Professor McGonagall said as she stood up to the podium, "I do not think it necessary to make a speech this year; we've all heard enough of words. But there is one thing I would like to say—all of us have been through enough these past years, this is a new beginning, a beginning of love and unity, leave your past prejudices behind and start over, Hogwarts will always offer you a second chance if you deserve it."
Draco looked away from her. You don't deserve it, the voice in his head said, you don't deserve the chance, yet you have it. Professor- no Headmistress McGonagall continued.
"Professor Sprout will call out the names of first years, you will step forward and the sorting hat shall be placed on your head," she said.
Professor Sprout stepped forward, her face was marred with scars from the war, but her smile was as warm and welcoming as ever, even to people like Draco. She unfolded a scroll and cleared her throat.
"Al-Abbas, Ayesha," she said, her voice booming through the great hall. A girl in a Hijab stepped forward, she seemed confident. It reminded Draco a bit of himself. He'd smirked the same way before stepping forward towards the sorting hat, he thought he knew his destiny then, and he lovingly accepted it.
The sorting hat didn't even touch her head before saying, loud and clear, SLYTHERIN! Her smile flickered.
The first sorting of the day, of a new era, and it's a Slytherin. We'll probably see that in the papers tomorrow, Draco thought, "THE SIGN OF A DARKER AGE? – Rita Skeeter". Articles like Skeeter's had increased tenfold after the war, superstitions haunted every wizarding household as they looked for "signs" in insignificant things. Skeeter, along with the superstitions, had skyrocketed towards fame in the past few months, with her articles bashing Death Eaters and everyone who was the wrong side of the war; it was an easy guess why.
The girl, she was tall for her age, and she stared straight ahead as she walked towards the Slytherin table. There were boos all over the great hall, no one applauded the sorting and the table remained quiet for the rest of the ceremony.
Slytherins once received a warm welcome—not just to their new house, but everywhere they went—now they were shunned like street dogs, especially those who had been on the wrong side. Draco was surprised he was even allowed to come back to Hogwarts. They fought against one prejudice, but ended up creating another, the voice in his head said. Shut it, Draco replied, you've no right to say that.
Professor Slughorn placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, making him flinch.
"Sorry, my boy," Slughorn said.
"It-it's okay, Professor," Draco replied. He hadn't expected kindness from Slughorn after the war. War changes people, Draco, the voice in his head said. Go away.
"Now I told the rest, only you left," Slughorn continued. "The students who are coming back this year to retake their 7th year, they'll be sharing dorms instead of going back to their usual common rooms, two people per dorm."
Draco stared at Slughorn. Two people…in one dorm room, he could deal with this right? The voice in his head laughed at him.
"You alright, my boy?" Slughorn asked. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Err, could you repeat it, sir?" Draco asked rather sheepishly.
"Never mind, you're in dorm 13, on the 4th floor east wing corridor," Slughorn said, "Now off you go, be kind to your new roommate, eh? And remember to contact me if you need any help, okay?"
"Yes, professor," Draco said and left.
Taking the stairs was a mistake. The eyes he had avoided the entire night followed his every step. People pointed and whispered. Death Eater. Draco took the steps two at a time, willing his legs to move as fast as they could.
Someone shot a tripping hex at him, and he fell. He brought a hand up to his face and was met with blood. A broken nose. Laughter echoed around him
"You deserved it! You scu-" the boy didn't finish his sentence, but Draco heard the sound of a slap echoing across the place, the laughter died.
"I DARE YOU TO FINISH THAT SENTENCE, MACMILLAN!" Pansy Parkinson screamed. Her hands gripped the front of MacMillan's robes, and she looked as threatening as ever.
"Pansy, let go," Blaise said from behind her, "You don't want to get in trouble."
She let him go.
"If I ever see you try anything like that, I will hex your balls off, understood?" MacMillan nodded in response and scurried off, the rest of the students followed him.
Draco stared at Pansy, she stared back. He had spent months trying to avoid his friends. Every letter they wrote, he burned in the fire before reading. But they still wrote.
The last letter he had gotten was yesterday, from Theodore Nott. He hadn't read it.
They had tried helping him, but all Draco gave was silence. And yet, Pansy had fought for him still.
He remembered the day of his trial. Blaise had banged on the Manor's front doors till his mother had been forced to let him in. Draco had refused to see him.
Pansy had waited outside the courtrooms. Draco hadn't even glanced at her.
He thought he had to go through this alone; there was no need to drag his friends into his misery.
They'll give up after a while anyway, he'd thought, urged by the voice in his head.
"Draco," Pansy said, kneeling down next to him. "The three of us cannot pretend to understand what you're going through, and we won't force you to talk to us. But, love, if you need us, we're here for you."
"I'm sorry," Draco said. He got up and looked at Blaise and Theo.
"Come here, Dray," Theo said and stepped forward to hug him. Draco cried into his shoulder.
It's going to be someone from your nightmares, Draco, the voice in his head said. He ignored it. Everyone at Hogwarts was someone from his nightmares.
Draco stood in front of the dorm door, it was a brown oak door with the number 13 in gold lettering embedded on it. Gathering all the courage he had, he raised his hand to knock. Knock knock knock. Three times.
There was a scuffling sound from the other side, followed by a thump.
Harry Potter opened the door.
Draco stood there for a few moments, frozen in fear and afraid to even move; lest he is subjected to a well-deserved killing curse right this instant. A few moments passed.
"Come in," Potter said. Draco stared at him in shock, but walked in.
"You're here too…I guess." Potter said. Draco nodded in response.
He was frozen in fear, this couldn't be happening right? He thought. There was no way in hell he could spend the rest of the year with Potter, there was no way he would be allowed to spend the rest of the year with Potter.
Draco stood near the door another few moments before Potter spoke.
"It's rather small isn't it?" he said.
"Sorry, what is?" Draco replied.
"The room." Draco looked around, it was small. Two beds on opposite sides of the room, two desks, two wardrobes, it was as if someone built half the room and mirrored it. The colour scheme, in Draco's opinion, was way worse, beige and grey. It looks like a funeral in here, the voice in his head said. Probably mine, Draco replied.
"What?" Potter said, looking at him quizzically.
"Huh?"
"You said 'probably mine'," Potter said. Draco realized, with horrible embarrassment he had said it out loud.
"Nothing, I-I'll just get settled." He said.
"Okay, I took the bed near the window, if that's okay," Potter said. He seemed surprisingly calm about this entire ordeal. Draco has expected to be pounced on; instead, he had gotten a bed to sleep on.
"Okay."
He unloaded his suitcase quickly. His mind burst with thoughts, one after another. Surely this was a mistake? They couldn't actually be putting The Saviour and a Death Eater in the same room?
Potter kept looking at him; Draco refused to look back at him as much as he could. The wardrobe door creaked as he opened it. It was ironic really; all those years he spent staring at him across the great hall—teasing—and now he couldn't even bring himself to look him in the eye.
Unpacking did not take long, as Draco had brought with him as little as he could. Most of the stuff he owned had memories attached to them, ones he wouldn't like to visit. He stood there in front of the closed wardrobe door for a moment, thinking about something to do, other than making small talk with Potter.
He took out a textbook to read, if nothing it'll at least spare him from awkward silence.
"School literally hasn't even started," Potter commented. Draco looked at him. Had he seriously been staring for so long?
"Gosh you're such a Hermione," he said when Draco didn't reply, "She reads textbooks for fun, can you believe that?"
A small laugh escaped Draco's lips, and it seemed to surprise Potter as much as it surprised him. Hermione Granger reading textbooks for fun was perhaps the most well-known fact about her. Other than her blood-status, thanks to those awful years Draco had spent bullying her. He looked back down in his textbook, and Potter didn't stare this time.
"I read textbooks for fun too, you know." He replied after a while, Potter shook his head.
"Of course, you do," he said. Draco didn't understand what he meant by that.
They didn't talk after that, except before bed when Potter said "Good night", to which Draco didn't reply.
Draco groaned in his sleep as he turned over, there was light shining through the window. Damn the light, Draco thought, I barely fell asleep.
That's true. His nightmares kept him awake most of the night, yesterday was no exception. He would have awoken Potter if it wasn't for the silencing charm he'd cast. Perhaps Potter did the same.
"You know, you're gonna be late to class if you don't wake up," Potter said from across the room. Draco buried his face in the pillow, refusing to acknowledge him.
"Wait," Draco said sitting up suddenly, "What's the frickin' time?"
Potter laughed at the sudden panic in his voice, "Relax, we've still got another 15 minutes till class starts."
"Fifteen minutes?!" Draco repeated, tossing his blanket off and sprinting towards the bathroom, he could still hear Potter's laughter through the door.
"Dammit," he said out loud to himself, his first day of class and he was going to be late. Not to mention he hadn't had any breakfast.
Draco entered transfiguration class with a hastily tied tie, and hair almost as atrocious as Potter's. Almost.
Half the students looked up to stare at him, either out of contempt or pity, neither of which Draco wanted. He straightened the bag on his shoulder and looked around for an empty seat; thankfully Pansy had saved him a seat, how thoughtful of her. After all you've done, they still care about you, the voice in his head said. Shut up, Draco replied, not today, please.
"You're late, Dray," she said as he sat down beside her.
"Really? I hadn't noticed," he replied, Pansy rolled her eyes.
"You know you can't go around making bad first impressions," she said, "You're lucky Miss Morningstar isn't on time either, I suppose you'll get around very well."
Miss Morningstar was the name of their new Transfiguration teacher, after McGonagall took over the position of Headmistress this year. Draco hadn't heard about her, but apparently, she was good enough to be following McGonagall's legacy at Hogwarts. Or at least he hoped she was good enough, he'd had enough of bad teachers to last a lifetime.
The sound of heels on stones echoed through the classroom as Miss Morningstar stepped through the door, she seemed poised and rather overdressed in her burgundy robes, Draco thought.
"Alright class!" she said in a rather chirpy voice, and Draco was instantly reminded of the hours he spent enduring Umbridge.
"I'll be your new Transfiguration teacher this year," she said, showing off her pearly white teeth. "Perhaps you'll like me better than McGonagall."
The class looked at each other, Better than McGonagall? Draco thought, she'd have to have literally invented Transfiguration.
Potter caught his eye from across the room, if his face indicated anything; he was thinking the exact same thing.
"Mr Potter!" Miss Morningstar said, her eyes had landed on Potter almost immediately after she entered the class, "What an honour to meet you!"
Potter smiled at her weakly, "Err, thanks."
"I would just like to say that I, like all the others in this room, am forever in your gracious debt," She continued, was it Draco's imagination or did she really bat her eyelashes at Potter? "Thank you again everything you did for all of us, Mr Potter."
Seamus Finnigan wolf-whistled, making the class roar in laughter.
If Draco had been the same boy he once was, he would have laughed at Potter's current state. His face was red in embarrassment, and he stuttered as he spoke, "I-It's okay, really, Miss Morningstar."
"Ahem, what will we be doing for our lesson, Professor?" Granger spoke, ever to the rescue.
"Oh, yes!" Miss Morningstar replied as if she had forgotten the real reason she was here.
"Well," she continued, "I was thinking we could use our first lesson together to practice some old spells, and help me understand the extent of each of your abilities so that I could help you better, doesn't that sound good?"
She did wait for a reply before continuing, "Mr Malfoy here will help us demonstrate the Crinus Muto charm. Mr Malfoy, please come ahead."
Draco's blood ran cold; Pansy dug her fingernails in his arm. Her eyes clearly said, don't panic. She was trying to humiliate Draco, and he could deal with that easily, humiliation wasn't the worst of what of what he'd faced.
He walked up to her. She raised her wand and said, "I'll demonstrate it only once, pay close attention."
The colour of Draco's hair changed from its signature Malfoy blond to a horrible shade of murky green. The class stifled their laughter once more.
Draco could hear the whispers in his mind. The gits finally getting what he deserves, they said. And he agreed for once, he deserved much worse than this.
"Mr Malfoy you can go back to your seat," Miss Morningstar said, smiling brightly at him as if he were her favourite student.
"Change his hair back first." Potter said. Draco looked at him, he wasn't laughing, he looked angry.
"Yes, of course, Mr Potter," Miss Morningstar said, her smile flattering. She waved her wand once again to undo the charm.
Draco returned back to his seat silently.
"I swear I'll maim that bitch's face," Pansy whispered.
"It's okay," Draco replied.
The rest of the lesson passed with the least amount of humiliation Draco could hope for.