Chapter 3
When the Hogwarts Express reached Hogsmeade Station, Draco was the first to make his way off the train, only pausing for Blaise and Pansy to catch up once he had reached the carriages.
“Granger was interesting enough,” Pansy mumbled to him.
Over his shoulder, Draco shot her an irritable look. “We are Dark Wizards, Parkinson. We do not befriend the Lights.”
She did not meet his eyes.
Getting out of the carriage, he was conscious of the stares and whispers of the students around him. Some were excited, some were nervous. None approached.
Blaise led the way to the Slytherin table when they reached the Great Hall, and the three sat in their preferred seats. The professors bowed to Draco from their table; Snape bowed so low he overbalanced and stumbled.
More Slytherins arrived, including Crabbe and Goyle, who bowed before flanking Draco. The rest paid their respects and sat down. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs filtered in next, dipping their heads rather stiffly or bowing. Some were Dark Wizards, but the others merely wanted not to suffer at the hands of the prince. Whether they were loyal to him or not, royalty was still royalty.
Last came Gryffindor. Draco thought they rather resembled wild animals, whooping and hollering and running around. Most did not even spare him a glance, too busy clamouring over Prince Harry.
Once they settled, the new first years were brought into the Great Hall by Professor McGonagall. Pooling in front of the teacher’s table, where the Sorting Hat lay on a stool, their wide eyes flickered between both princes, awe on their faces.
“There are a good number of them this year,” Draco commented as the first of over thirty sat on the stool.
His friends murmured their agreement, while Crabbe and Goyle grunted. Soon, they were guessing which House each first year would be placed in. Blaise kept getting them right; Pansy stopped guessing by her fifth loss.
The Sorting Ceremony passed quickly enough. Quite a few first years joined Ravenclaw’s ranks, but a fair amount joined the other Houses as well. Draco did not care as long as his followers stayed away from Gryffindor. He did not want his fiancé meddling with them.
A feast appeared before the Hogwarts students once Dumbledore had finished his speech and announcements. Draco ate quietly, listening to the students’ conversations around him. Some wondered what their classes would entail this year, while others talked about what they had done during the summer holidays.
The mention of his name caught his attention, and he turned to Pansy. “What was that?”
“I asked who you would rather marry: Taylor Morris or Dolores Gonford?”
Blaise leaned over to meet Draco’s eyes. “Whose face would you rather see for the rest of your life?”
“Morris, I suppose.” Almost an afterthought, he added, “I could never live with a Dolores.”
The friends shivered. Though Dolores Umbridge was a Dark Wizard and therefore under the Malfoys’ command, she was an insufferable woman. She liked pink and kittens more than was healthy, and she was dreadful to look at.
Draco eyed her at her place among the professors. She had a smug smile, one she had no right to. No power, no title, no position she had was truly hers. Everything she possessed had been given to her by the royal family on promises of success and glory she had yet to fulfil.
“You should just sack her, Your Highness,” Pansy grumbled.
He could not have agreed more.
At the end of supper, he left for the solitude of his room. It was only half past eight, but the night was dark, and he had no desire to mingle with his peers.
The room had once had five four-poster beds in it, but Draco had taken the liberty of removing them his first year at Hogwarts. Though it was much smaller than the bedroom he had at his castle, he had managed to make it look exactly the same. To him, it cancelled out the fact that he had not managed to insert his own lavatory until his fourth year.
Fresh out of the shower, he heard a series of knocks and crossed his room to open the door. “Prince Harry.”
“Can I talk to you?” the prince asked.
Draco sighed and went to fetch an extra towel. “Come in.”
Harry closed the door behind himself and looked around the room. His eyes scanned the large bed with soft, thick covers and the well polished desk and wardrobe. Finally, he peered into the bathroom. “Is this…?”
“A replica of my room,” Draco finished for him. He watched the brunet through his slightly fogged mirror as he dried his hair. “Out with it, Prince. What do you want?”
“Erm, do you think you could —” Harry’s gaze swept over Draco from head to toe briefly before moving away “— get dressed?”
He had watched the progress of Harry’s eyes and smirked. He had on nothing but a towel around his waist. “Scared of a little bit of skin, Prince Harry?”
Face pink, Harry muttered, “You wish.”
The blond obliged only when he had finished drying his hair; he did not wish for it to frizz. As he wrapped sleeping robes around himself, he prompted once more, “What do you want, Prince Harry? You sought me out yet you have hardly spoken ten words.”
The Light Prince took a deep breath. “I want to call a truce between us. Before you say anything, I do not want this for our kingdoms, or even our parents. I want this for us.”
“Why?” Draco asked more as a formality than anything.
“Well, we have to exist together for the rest of our lives, Prince Draco.” Harry’s voice sounded incredulous. “A life of just wishing my spouse dead does not sound like a life at all to me. However, with a truce, it could be just that much easier for us to live in peace with one another.”
Draco frowned. “We exist to hate each other. We exist to kill each other.”
Harry’s eyes found him again, and his tone was almost pleading. “Please, Prince Draco? I know you intend to convert me, and quite frankly even that would be easier. I know we could not bear being married with this great rivalry between us.”
“You, Prince Harry, are a Parselmouth. I have no need to convert you; deep down, you already are a Dark Wizard. My task is to bring that side of you out for the world to see.” Draco nodded to his door. “You may see yourself out.”
Sighing, Prince Harry turned to leave, bowing slightly. Before he could walk out, however, Draco called him back.
“Just one question: how did you get through to the common room?” he asked.
“Oh.” The brunet prince shrugged. “Back when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, I thought you might be the Heir of Slytherin. Ron and I disguised ourselves as Crabbe and Goyle and followed you in to see if you would tell us.”
Draco’s brows flicked up. “Is that so?”
The next morning, the Dark Prince resolved to never return to a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson as long as Umbridge taught it. The class had been one of the more enjoyable ones for Draco until Umbridge took over. Now, even Divination with Trelawney was preferable to the misery of sitting through an hour of the pink witch’s mind-grating voice.
Potions with Professor Snape was more bearable. Snape was a competent wizard, and the students learned useful draughts and concoctions. Even Granger, whom Draco despised greatly, failed to ruin this class for him. She answered every question with the arrogance of someone who knew everything, especially when she had not been called upon. He knew that at the end of the day, his marks would always be higher than hers, and not because it would benefit Snape.
Professor Flitwick’s Charms class could always be counted on to be entertaining, even on the first day of school. Students easily botched incantations, and the results were far from the intention. Perhaps the outcome was funny, but more often than not, it was downright disastrous. Still, the blond had full marks, the highest in his year. Not even Granger bested him, to his joy.
Come lunch, Draco was having a good day. The pounding rain against Hogwarts’ walls and windows lulled him from any excitement or frustration he had been feeling, and he listened calmly as Blaise and Pansy recounted how Neville Longbottom, a rather plump Gryffindor sixth-year, had accidentally turned his toad into a fly instead of a flytrap in their shared Transfiguration class that morning. The windows had been opened the previous lesson due to smoke from an explosion, and the toad-turned-fly had escaped.
Of course, Prince Harry Potter had already organised multiple schoolwide searches, and only a few tables away, he was comforting Longbottom.
Draco idly wondered how exactly anyone planned to find a fly in a castle as large as Hogwarts, surrounded by fields, a forest, and a lake. No matter how many people participated in the searches, every square inch of the grounds could not be accounted for. Who was to say the escaped familiar was even alive? There had to be hundreds of frogs — or toads — that ate flies.
The entire situation was ridiculous to Draco, especially when the Light Prince asked him to help.
“You want me to do what?” the blond laughed. Beside him, Blaise and Pansy tried to hide their own amusement while Crabbe and Goyle guffawed heartily.
Harry remained unfazed. “I would like for you and your friends to help find Neville’s toad.”
Pansy piped up, “Don’t you mean his fly?”
“Whatever animal he may be.”
Shrugging, Draco said, “My apologies, but I find myself occupied. Searching for a lost fly does not seem to fit into my schedule. Maybe some other time.”
“Oh, I am sure you can find yourself pardoned from whatever is taking up your time, but very well.” The corners of Prince Harry’s mouth rose. “While I cannot make you do anything, Prince Draco, I hereby order Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini to assist me in finding Neville Longbottom’s familiar, Trevor.”
Gasping and letting out indignant tones, both of Draco’s friends begged him to make the Light Prince take back his words. He appreciated Harry’s tactics, however. The princes could not order each other around — the Blood Ruby was Draco’s way around this irritating fact — but their friends were vulnerable. He had not thought his fiancé would take advantage of his status, but it had now been twice that Draco had underestimated him.
With a flick of his hand, he sent his friends off. “Very clever, Prince Harry. You are full of surprises, I see.”
A faint glimmer appeared in Harry’s eyes. “May I strike a bargain with you?”
“You may.”
“If we find Trevor, whatever state he may be in, before sunrise the day Christmas holidays start, we handle this relationship my way,” Harry said. “If he is not found, then I will willingly go about the engagement and marriage however you wish.”
The price was power. This intrigued Draco very much, and he knew he could benefit from it. Whether he won or lost, Draco would always have power over Prince Harry as long as the Light Wizard wore the Blood Ruby, but the power would be forced. If Harry willingly gave up the power, it would be of a different calibre and much more effective. This was not an opportunity he could pass.
Searching his robes, Draco pulled out a silver pocket watch. “It is currently half past sunhigh. Sundown is at six fifteen, I believe. You have less than six hours every day.”
“So you agree?” Harry asked.
“You have less than six hours every day if you start searching now, but the great Prince Harry Potter will not skip school, will he? By the time lessons are over, you will have little more than a few hours per day.” Draco gave a cruel smile. “Good luck.”
With a quick bow, Prince Harry left the Slytherin table, Blaise and Pansy in tow. They were to search for the remainder of lunch then return to their afternoon classes. The withering looks they shot as their prince as they left the Great Hall were perhaps well-deserved but inexcusable. They would be dealt with later.