Exile

King’s Cross Station was, like every year, a hell of voices, steam, and chaos. Draco hated every second spent in that mess.

Every step was a risk: someone bumped into his shoulder, he was pushed left and right, a trunk nearly slammed into his legs, and the children's shouts and the constant chatter made him feel like he was going to explode. But that year, if possible, it was even worse.

Because, on top of all that, he had a burden attached to him.

"Harry, for Merlin’s sake, you don’t have to cling to me like that!" he snapped, trying to shake off the firm grip on his sleeve. "I asked you not to get lost, not to become an extension of my arm..."

He wasn't really angry, though. Harry had probably never seen so many people all in one place. He’d even be kind of cute - with that confused expression and his wide eyes darting around in wonder - if it weren’t for the fact that Draco was overstimulated, anxious about everything, and terrified of making some fatal mistake. What a surprise. He should be used to it by now, just another miserable day in his miserable life.

Harry didn’t answer, but his grip tightened even more.

Draco sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Come on, let’s get on the train. Everyone’s staring at us.”

And he wasn’t lying. He could feel the stares: professors, students, and parents. Being a Malfoy during the war wasn’t exactly ideal.

They made their way through the crowd and finally got inside the train. Draco immediately felt better once they were in an empty compartment, far from the station’s noise. Harry plopped down beside him, then turned to the window, squashing his face against the glass, too fascinated by the movement of people on the platform.

Draco decided to take the chance to go over the rules.

“Alright... Do you remember what we said at home?”

Silence.

“Harry!”

The other whipped around to look at him with a guilty expression.

“The rules — what are they?”

“Oh, yesss! Uhm... stay close to you, no hiss, no talking about the big ssnake, and never show tattoo!” he recited in one breath, puffing out his chest like he’d just passed a difficult test.

Draco allowed himself a small smile. “Perfect. And remember, the last one is the most important. If someone finds out you have the Dark Mark—”

The compartment door suddenly burst open. Draco fell silent immediately.

He expected to see Pansy or Blaise, but instead was faced with the reddest and most obnoxious hair in all of Hogwarts.

“Weasley,” he spat with contempt. “What do you want?”

“Just doing a check, Malfoy.” The boy crossed his arms with an arrogant grin. “You know, I’m a prefect now.” He proudly pointed to the badge on his robes. “And it’s my duty to make sure you’re not up to anything shady. I can even take points.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, then gave him a long, thoughtful look.

“You know, I heard the badge is made of real gold… If I were you, I’d consider selling it. Could be a nice profit for your family.”

Weasley’s face turned instantly red, and Draco smiled in satisfaction.

It was only then that the Gryffindor noticed someone else in the compartment.

“And who’s that?” he asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry.

Before Draco could step in, Harry sprang to his feet. Oh, how he missed the statue-like Harry who barely moved.

“I Harry!” he exclaimed, giving a deep bow.

Draco closed his eyes in despair.

The only upside was that Weasley seemed too confused to react.

“Sit down,” Draco ordered sharply, and Harry obeyed without a word.

“He’s my cousin,” Draco explained, hoping the idiot in front of him wouldn’t ask more questions. “A new student. And anyway, it’s none of your business.”

Weasley eyed him suspiciously. “And where’s your cousin been all this time?”

“Durmstrang,” Draco replied without hesitation. “And now, if you’re done sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, you can leave.”

“Well, it is my business, since-”

Thankfully, the door opened again, interrupting his response.

This time, it wasn’t an annoying Gryffindor. Pansy and Blaise had finally arrived.

“Draco?” Pansy shot a disgusted look at Weasley. “What’s this blood traitor doing here?”

“Doing my prefect duties,” Weasley replied, lifting his chin.

“Do them elsewhere,” she answered with a venomous smile and a dismissive hand gesture. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Or what?” Weasley pulled out his wand.

Blaise scoffed, as relaxed as ever but with a dangerous glint in his eye. “You should leave. Now. We’re four against one, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Weasley hesitated. Then, with a frustrated look, he stormed out of the compartment, slamming the door and stomping his feet.

“Now,” said Pansy, gracefully sitting in front of Draco. “Who’s that?” She pointed to Harry, who had spent the entire time watching the landscape outside the window, now slowly moving, completely indifferent to everything.

It was going to be a long ride.

By the end of the train ride, Draco's head was in severe pain. He had spent hours answering his friends' curious, often intrusive, questions about 'that mysterious cousin from Bulgaria.' And while he understood their curiosity, every word that came out of his mouth seemed to drain him a little more. Meeting a dementor would have been a walk in the park by comparison. 

When the train pulled up to Hogsmeade station and the mass of students began to pour onto the platform, Draco was almost relieved. There was no suffocating crowd of King's Cross, and Harry, for once, seemed comfortable enough to walk beside him without clinging to his arm. 

He regretted not taking his hand no less than a few seconds later.

“WAAAH!” Harry suddenly shouted, running quickly toward one of the carriages that were parked nearby. He stopped in front of one, held out his hands and began to caress the air.

Draco immediately rushed after him.

“Draco!” Harry shrieked, turning to him with a grin so wide it looked like it was about to explode in his face. “Look, beautiful!”

Draco couldn't see anything at all. Not him, and not even Pansy and Blaise, who had just arrived behind them with the same puzzled look on their faces.

“Can he see the Thestrals?” Pansy asked quietly.

Draco nodded slowly, almost unconsciously. “Apparently… though it’s not that strange. We’re at war. Most of us can see them now.”

“Yes… I'd rather never see them,” Pansy muttered with a grimace.

It was at that moment that, amidst the growing clamor of the students, the voice of a gigantic man began to force its way through.

“HARRY BLACK! HARRY BLACK!” He screamed, “I NEED HARRY BLACK!”

Harry jumped and started bouncing like an excited puppy. If Draco hadn't known better, he would have thought he was looking at a child on a sugar overdose.

"Me! I Harry!" he shouted, raising a hand.

Hagrid’s imposing figure strode toward him. “Ah, there you are! You’re the new one, aren’t you? You’re coming with me, with the first years. Tradition dictates that the first journey is by boat!”

Draco was quick to interject. “He’s old enough already, he won’t want to be with that bunch of brats. We can take care of him.”
But the truth was, he just didn’t want to let him out of his sight. 

“Oh no, no, Dumbledore’s orders!” Hagrid said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Come on, Harry, they’re waiting for you to leave.”

Harry turned to Draco, a little disappointed, but with the excitement still visible on his face. He waved at him, his frown barely there. He understood, he too would have wanted to explore everything and more if he were in his shoes, locked in a mansion for sixteen long years.

"Bye bye, ssee later! No forget me!"

Draco raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help but smile. “How could I?”

He watched him walk away for a moment before finally boarding the carriage. His friends waiting for him inside.

“That cousin of yours… he certainly is a very peculiar type,” Blaise immediately commented as they began to move.

“You can say that out loud.” Draco muttered, running a hand over his face.

“Do you think he’ll be a Slytherin?”

«I hope so...»

Later, in the Great Hall, when Harry's name was called by Professor McGonagall for sorting, Draco spilled the entire glass of pumpkin juice onto the table, soaking Pansy from head to toe.

“Damn Morgana, what’s wrong with you?” she shrieked, quickly drying herself with a spell. “This uniform is custom made, it costs a lot!”

“As if you couldn't buy ten more,” he said, not even looking at her. All his attention was on the Sorting Hat, which was now being lowered onto Harry’s head.

Harry, who was staring at him smiling from the center of the room.

The hat remained for a long, long time. He couldn't blame it, he would have paid gold to look inside Harry's head, but too much time had passed and the hat had not yet announced its decision.

"What if he end up in Gryffindor?" whispered Blaise.

“Impossible,” Draco said harshly, fidgeting on the edge of his seat. “He’ll be a Slytherin, he has to be.” 

Indeed, it was so. 

Harry leapt to his feet cheering, his new emerald green robes billowing behind him as he ran to the table.

Draco shook his head, a tight smile on his lips. The Dark Lord's disciple... of course he would end up in Slytherin.

He threw himself into the chair that had been purposely left empty next to him. 

"Draco! With you!"

“What did I tell you? And you know what the best part is?” He replied happily.

“What?” Harry looked at him as if there could be nothing better than being with him.

“This” and all the tables were filled with food and all sorts of delicacies.

The expression on Harry's face was almost comical, and he immediately began to gorge himself, oblivious to all the strange looks he was receiving.

At least he wouldn't have to steal pieces of breakfast to feed him anymore.

Harry's first morning at Hogwarts was a complete disaster. 

After a hearty breakfast, Draco led Harry through the corridors of the castle, but was forced to stop every few steps: Harry had made a point of bowing and greeting every single picture hanging on the walls. 

Draco quickly learned that there were many paintings at Hogwarts.

“Harry, we’re going to be late, I don’t want to end up in detention on my first day…” he snapped, grabbing him by the arm to drag him away, but it was no use, Harry was definitely stronger and more trained than him.

“I talking to new friend,” he protested enthusiastically. “Look!” 

“Sir Percival, at your service!” cried the knight, removing his headdress in a grand dramatic gesture. “Young man! You have a beautiful head of hair, natural or magical? You can tell me, and I will keep it a secret!” 

Draco made an indignant sound. “They’re perfectly natural, thank you very much. Now if you don’t mind, I need to take Harry to class—”

He finally managed to drag Harry away, but he kept turning back to wave at Sir Percival.

"Nice paintings, not like home. I have friends here!" he said, still smiling.

“And I believe it, no Malfoy ancestor is remembered for being so nice.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’ve got Charms now, I think you’ll like it, Professor Flitwick isn’t bad.”

They were only a few steps away from the classroom when someone bumped into Draco's shoulder, knocking all his books to the floor.

“Hey! Watch where you step,” he snapped irritably, dusting off his clothes. 

“Sorry… I was in a hurry…” said Neville Longbottom, who immediately bent down to help him.

“Easy, Neville, it’s just Malfoy,” Weasley’s voice came promptly. “He deserves it.” Then Ron raised his wrist and looked at his battered watch. “You’re late. I’m afraid I’ll have to take away some points—”

“If we’re late, you’re late too,” Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry followed suit awkwardly. 

"We didn't hear the alarm, what's your excuse?"

“I talk to paintings!” Harry announces proudly.

Draco took a deep breath, defeated.

“The paintings?” Weasley laughed. “You’re mad, but maybe it runs in the family, don’t you think, Neville?”

Longbottom, for his part, had gathered up and put away Draco's books, and was now standing there looking as if he wished he were anywhere but here. 

“What’s mad?” Harry asked confused. 

Weasley didn't miss the opportunity. "Look, as I was saying, mad and stupid, congratulations on your cousin, Malfoy."

Draco gritted his teeth. “Think about your own family, Weasley. I hear your father’s out of work… How unfortunate. It must be hard, without a Ministry salary.”

The punch came before Draco could react. 

In an instant they were on the ground, dragged by rage, tugging at each other's hair and kicking. Wands gone, magic forgotten. Something scratched Draco's neck and he thought he felt blood coming out.

“Ron, stop it!” Longbottom shouted, trying to get between the two, but to no avail.

He was about to throw a well-placed punch into the redhead's stomach when an invisible force forced them apart. 

Draco rolled against the opposite wall, panting. Harry was standing there, his wand held out to Weasley.

The cold paralyzed his body.

“What are you doing?!” Neville shouted, his voice cracking with fear.

“No hurt Draco, okay?” Harry said, and Draco immediately knew what his next word was going to be. 

“Harry, no!” he shouted, but he was too slow.

«Cruc-»

“Expelliarmus!” roared a stern voice, drowning out Harry’s. 

Harry's wand flew away.

Draco felt his heart in his throat, everything had gone wrong in less than twenty-four hours. The Dark Lord would kill him.

Snape had appeared like a shadow, his cloak billowing behind him. His eyes glared at all four boys with barely concealed contempt.

“Professor!” said Weasley at once. “He was about to—”

“I don’t care what he was going to do, Weasley,” he interrupted. “But what was done. Such behavior from a prefect? ​​Inexcusable.”

«But professor-»

“Silence, no buts. Weasley, Longbottom: Dumbledore office. Now.”

Draco watched them walk away. Weasley stomping his feet and Longbottom shaking like a leaf behind him.

Then he turned to Draco, who quickly stood up. “Malfoy, go to the hospital and tend to that scratch on your neck, then meet us in the Dumbledore office. Black, follow him.”

And then he was gone, without another look. 

The door closed behind them with a soft click. Somehow, even after six years, the headmaster's office was a place Draco had managed to avoid, despite being no stranger to detentions. 

Harry looked around, fascinated by everything: the portraits whispering to each other, the desk full of strange and shiny trinkets, and as soon as he noticed her he ran to the great phoenix to stroke its feathers. He seemed so carefree.

Totally the opposite of Draco, who instead seemed ready to sink into the floor and never resurface. 

Silent greeted them with a smile, sitting composedly behind his desk.

“Welcome, boys,” he said quietly. “I won’t keep you long. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, but I’m afraid I need to have a word with you as well.”

Draco swallowed. He had just sat down, stiff and pale, only a faint red mark where he had been scratched. Next to him, Harry stood, still more interested at the phoenix than anything else.

"Fortunately, no one was too badly hurt. And since no spell was actually cast... I'd say there's no serious wrongdoing to be punished."

The look he gave Draco made it clear he knew exactly what curse they were talking about. Draco didn't know whether to be relieved or to get even more upset. 

"You will agree with me," Dumbledore continued, smiling faintly, "that I cannot ignore a brawl in the corridors. Therefore, for a week, you will both be assigned to Professor Snape to clean and polish the cauldrons, starting today."

Draco slumped into his chair in defeat.

“By hand, of course. Without magic!” concluded Dumbledore, as if announcing a large reward.

Harry actually looked thrilled. “I good cleaning. Can use brush, yess?”

“Of course!” said Dumbledore, standing up, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked Harry straight in the eye, perhaps a little too long. “And maybe, with any luck, it will keep you out of any more fights.”

“Weasley started it, anyway,” Draco retorted stubbornly, also getting up.

Silent laughed softly. 

"You may go. And... Harry?"

The boy stopped, turning to face him.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, I hope you are as comfortable as you were at Durmstrang, correct?”

Harry nodded happily. “Yes! I love it. Especially paintingss!”

Draco tugged at his cloak with an exasperated sigh. “Come, human brush, we’ve got cauldrons waiting.”

The rest of the day went on, miraculously, without further disaster. Draco managed to drag Harry to every lesson on time, and no one else was punched or threatened with forbidden curses. A marked improvement, all things considered.

It was only later in the afternoon that Draco was able to be alone with Harry. 

Harry was polishing the inside of a large cauldron with considerable concertation. He was even hissing something to himself.

Draco put down his brush and walked over to him. 

"Harry? Can you listen to me for a moment, please? Just a second."

Harry immediately let go of the brushes to give him his full attention. 

“What curse were you going to use on Weasley today?”

“Crucio!” he replied without hesitation.

Draco nodded. “And do you know what effect that has?”

Harry looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. “It hurts. A lot.”

"Harry... I know that madman fucked with your mind and it's not your fault, not really, but I need you to understand." Draco took him by the shoulders, squeezing tightly. "You can't use the Cruciatus Curse on Weasley, or anyone. It's Dumbledore here, it's not like the world out there, the Dark Lord's rules don't apply..."

“But they hurt you,” Harry muttered, frowning. He looked at him with a strange expression, as if he couldn’t understand why.

"Yes, and I'll take care of it," he clarified. "The crucio, and all those other curses that I know you know, are bad, you can't do them whenever you want."

Harry's eyes widened. 

"Me bad?" 

“No, no,” Draco shook his head, “they forced you to do many bad things, but I know you’re not like that, you’re good, really good.”

Harry still looked confused, but that was enough for now. 

"Okay, you good too" 

Draco smiled bitterly "I don't think so, but I'm trying to get better"

And then they went back to brushing the cauldrons.