Changes

Update 10/05/05: As per the new rules, I\'m adding a disclaimer here. This story really needs an actual chapter update, but Real Life has kept this story from reaching that point. Sorry.
Disclaimer: Pursuant to copyright law, I acknowledge that I own none of the characters, concepts, or other related material in Harry Potter. I make no money from the writing of fan fiction based on the property of others.

After the Sorting, when things had gone from quiet to raucous, Ron nudged Harry’s arm. “Who’s the girl sitting with the Slytherins? She’s no first-year.”

Harry looked at the Slytherin table. “The blonde?”

“Yeah.” Ron was talking with his mouth full again; had Hermione not been involved in another conversation she would have been displeased. “She looks like, what, a sixth-year? But blimey if I’ve ever seen ‘er before.”

His friend hummed. “She’s gorgeous,” he noted, with a tone somewhere between wonder and surprise.

Indeed she was. She had long flaxen hair that was pulled back from her temples with a delicate and undoubtedly expensive clasp; when she happened to glance past Harry and Ron, they saw that her eyes were soulful, expressive, and above all a stunning blue. She had fine brows and full lips, which were quirked into the barest hint of a sneer. It wasn’t the most flattering expression, but she was still quite stunning. The girl turned her head.

“Who is she?” Harry breathed.

“I heard because of all the ruckus with You-Know-Who that the staff were bringing their children here…you know, to be safe. Maybe she’s somebody’s daughter?” Ron scanned the table of teachers, including several new instructors.

Harry meanwhile couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something familiar about her, and yet exotic and fascinating. Perhaps she was a teacher’s daughter. That would explain the odd sense of familiarity. But for the life of him he couldn’t see who it might be; the instructors were all too young or too old to have a girl Harry’s age. “Nobody’s talking to her,” he said softly.

Ron looked back and cocked his head. “That’s interesting. You’d think the Slytherin boys would be all over her. Fresh meat and all. Maybe she’s shy.” Harry snorted derisively.

“Then why’s she sitting with Slytherin?” he asked. Ron smiled.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her after dinner?” he prompted, elbowing Harry in the ribs.

“Why don’t you do it?” Harry demanded, his tone defensive.

“I really don’t think Hermione would be very happy if I did that,” Ron said.

Harry swallowed. “All right,” he managed. “I’ll talk to her after dinner.”

“Good man.”

After the meal the students milled about in the corridor, waiting for the Prefects to lead them to their dormitories. Dumbledore had called the Prefects and some of the other older students aside; who knew why? Harry made his way to the edge of the cloud of Gryffindors. The girl was standing slightly apart from the Slytherin students, and he walked cautiously over to her.

“Hi.”

She looked at him and her eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Potter?” she demanded.

Harry was taken aback. “Well, I…”

“Harry!” He jerked as Hermione called his name; when he looked back the girl had vanished.

Hiding behind Crabbe and Goyle, she pinched the bridge of her nose. That was a close one, she thought to herself. But she wasn’t going to be able to avoid the students from the other houses for long. She stayed in the thickest part of the knot of Slytherins until the crowd dissipated to the dormitories. Their silence toward her was not cold and exclusive; rather, they spoke in hushed tones around her as out of respect. She wasn’t particularly comforted by the distinction. This year is going to royally suck, she thought bitterly.

Ron and Harry debated long into the evening. “McGonagall has a couple of kids. Maybe this is a granddaughter?” Ron suggested.

“Then why wouldn’t she sit with the Gryffindors?”

“Snape?”

Both Ron and Harry made a disgusted face; who would have a child with Snape? They shook their heads.

“Maybe she’s related to one of the new instructors,” Ron mused.

Harry hummed. “I don’t know. She’s really familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I feel like I know her from somewhere. She certainly knew who I was…called me by name, actually.”

“She called you Harry?”

“No, Potter.”

Ron frowned slightly. “Well, you are rather famous,” he said, shrugging.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The girl sat across the aisle from them in Potions. Harry couldn’t help but stare; she occasionally glanced toward him and he quickly broke away each time. She didn’t seem to realize he was staring at her, and would turn back to the front. Snape shut the door to his office and made a beeline for his lectern, not even looking at the class. “Welcome back,” he said darkly. He certainly knew how to set the mood, Harry thought.

Snape read the last names off the roll and each student responded with his or her first name. Hermione piped up eagerly and Snape looked at her, rolling his eyes before returning to the list. She seemed only slightly phased by this. Hermione took every new school year as a wonderful present and tried to be cheery even when faced with the same old drudgery. Ron and Harry chuckled at her.

Finally, Snape came to the latter half of the alphabet and Harry perked up to wait for his name. Snape called out “Malfoy” and looked up expectantly. There was a moment of silence and Snape’s beetle-black eyes swept the room.

“Draco,” came the soft reply.

“Speak up, Malfoy,” Snape said sharply.

“Draco.” Harry looked at the girl across the aisle, whose voice was loud and sounded rather angry. Then he looked again. She caught his gaze and her eyes were furious; she looked away quickly, flippopenopen her textbook and staring intently at it.

Oh. My. God.

Harry felt like his brain was going to explode. Every time he learned something new about the wizarding world, it surprised him. But this was too much. This was a sick joke. This was…this was…

“Malfoy, you and Parkinson will be partners. Granger, Weasley. Potter, Finnegan.” Snape wandered down the aisle assigning lab partners, pointing at the pairs as he passed. He paused before moving to the next row, stopping beside Draco. Harry could barely hear him as he bent toward her.

“My condolences on the loss of your parents,” he said softly.

“On behalf of the Malfoy family, I thank you,” she answered, her voice stiff and formal. Snape bowed his head and moved on.

After class, Harry hung back a little. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt uneasy about walking with the rest of his house. Draco picked up her books and moved through the aisle toward the door.

“Malfoy.”

She looked up. “What is it, Potter?” she asked. Her voice was annoyed, but predominantly sounded very tired.

“I…I’m sorry about your folks.”

Draco nodded cordially. “Your sympathy is appreciated.” Her lips quirked into an odd, bitter smile. “As much as I hate to admit it, we are now somewhat the same.”

“Orphans?”

“Hmm, yes, and under similar circumstances, I believe.” Her expression softened for just a moment. “Unfortunately, the curse intended for me found its mark, whereas you’ve just got that obnoxious scar.” She brushed past him and walked briskly away.

“Malfoy!” Harry called, jogging to catch up. She stopped.

“Let’s not pretend to suddenly be friends, Potter,” she murmured.

“I…I mean…” Harry stopped. “What I mean to say is, I really am sorry. As much as we’ve hated each other in the past…”

Draco swallowed hard. She smiled icily. “We all live with our lot in life.”

They walked together, slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not just yet,” she said. Her expression was strained. The stony silence in the Slytherin dormitory had grown tiresome, but she could not yet bring herself to discuss her recent pain. She and Harry walked along, not looking at each other, for several minutes.

“I thought your father was in Azkaban,” Harry murmured finally.

Draco laughed almost cruelly. “Do you really think the escape of the Dark Lord’s right hand man would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet?”

Harry said nothing.

“He came back a very different man. Desperate and cruel.” Draco chuckled. “Although you probably would not have noticed any difference.” She stopped walking and turned toward him. “Potter, let us be perfectly frank with each other, hmm? We are enemies. That is how it should be. If our circumstances were reversed, I would not concern myself with your pain.”

She shouldered her bag more firmly and walked away, leaving Harry alone in the corridor.

Soon enough the entire student body knew about Draco’s transformation. She found herself hiding in the Slytherin dormitories more often than not. Her former victims now found themselves free to torment her, and without Crabbe and Goyle standing behind her she was defenseless. Some friends they were, she thought bitterly as she hid behind the stone columns of a corridor, carefully avoiding a group of Ravenclaws who were walking past. She waited for them to disappear around the corner and then slunk out from behind the column.

“So, Malfoy, creeping about in the shadows? Seems about right.”

She stopped. It was Finnegan. Draco looked at him and rolled her eyes. She started to walk again, and Finnegan jogged to keep up with her. “What do you want, Finnegan?” she demanded.

“Seamus.” Finnegan turned around, and Draco looked over her shoulder; it was Potter. “Ron’s looking for you.” Finnegan glanced at Draco and then walked quickly away. “You shouldn’t let him bug you like that.”

“I wasn’t aware I had much choice,” Draco said softly. Harry sighed.

“I know the Gryffindors have been really awful to you, Malfoy.”

Draco crossed her arms. “Don’t concern yourself, Potter.” She hugged herself tightly, as though cold.

“I know what it’s like to be different,” Harry said softly.

“I don’t want your pity!” Draco spat.

“I don’t pity you.” Harry held his ground.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Damn you. Fucking halfbreed Gryffindor.” She swept past him and stalked down the corridor; Harry picked up the book he’d dropped as she went by and sighed. Kill your enemy with kindness, he thought bitterly.