Possibilities

Harry and Hermione sat in the library together the Sunday before their first week of classes; conversing in whispers. Hermione seems to come alive in these four walls, stacked with books. “Endless knowledge,” she had whispered to him. “Knowledge is the greatest power anyone can have.” After hearing her say that Harry suddenly felt the need to pick up a book. 

Now there were five books in front of her and she seemed to be simultaneously reading them all. “This is all quite interesting, Harry,” Her eyes flicker up to him before returning to scanning the page. “Slytherin gets a bad reputation for being the house of dark wizards, yet Merlin was a Slytherin.” 

Harry knew about Merlin – or rather the muggle lore about the man, he wonders how close to the truth they got. “The Merlin,” he says it to appease Hermione and it works. She grins and her eyes are wide in fascination. “Oh, Harry,” she muses. “We’re not evil.”  

It’s said as a mere afterthought but Harry can see the impact of the thought on Hermione, she seems to relax a bit more into herself. She’s no longer looking around; terrified people are going to be making fun of her or something. “No, we’re not.” 

She smiles at him gently, there’s a fondness in her eyes; Harry feels it too. It’s as if they’ve been friends their whole lives. “Do you want a book on Merlin, Harry?” She’s practically bouncing at the prospect of sharing this with someone. “It’s rather interesting, honestly, a bit too close to fantasy for me, but I think you might like it.” 

She extends her hand a small book in her hand. He rolls his eyes good naturedly, “Thank you, Hermione.” 

They sit like that for while – both reading, Hermione letting out audible gasps of awe every now and again. It’s comfortable. Maybe Slytherin won’t be so bad he thinks; if he has her. Maybe – even if it wasn’t his parents house. 

“Granger, Potter.” Draco sits himself down next to Harry, greeting them as such. He peers over Harry’s shoulder at the book he’s reading. “Merlin, eh, Potter?” Harry pauses his reading for a minute, keeping a finger in-between the pages, to keep his place. “Uh – yeah,” he says tentatively. 

Harry doesn’t know what to think about Draco Malfoy, he can never tell whether he’s insulting him or not. “Hermione gave it to me.” 

Draco nods. “Potter, eh? Can’t believe I didn’t figure it out.” 

“I can,” Ron grumbles as he joins the three at the table. “Blimey though mate, can’t believe you kept that one from us.” 

Harry shrugged, “Sorry, I guess.” His cheeks felt heated, the sudden unwanted attention becoming too much. “I didn’t realise it was a big deal.” 

“Not a big deal-” Ron’s cut off by a swift kick to the shin by Hermione. Harry smiles at her gratefully. 

“What are you two doing here?” Hermione asks going back to reading her book. 

“Thought I might write home,” Ron says, scratching his head. “Mum and Dad already owled me you know, to tell me they think it’s great I’m in Hufflepuff. They don’t really, they just don’t want to tell me I’ve disappointed them.” 

Surely it’s not that big of a deal, houses? Surely that didn’t change the way people’s parents felt about their children. He chewed the inside of his cheek. Surely, his parents wouldn’t be disappointed in him for not being a Gryffindor? 

“I’m sure they’re not disappointed in you Weasley,” Draco says in one of his rare bursts of genuine kindness. “Shocked, sure, but I’ve seen your parents with you and your siblings, trust me: they don’t care.” 

Everyone at the table seems fairly taken aback at his comforting words – especially considering they’re aimed at Ron. He shrugs, appearing unbothered, “What? I can be nice.” Harry grins at that, the ridiculousness of the statement forcing a laugh out of him. 

“Shut it, Potter.” Harry quiets down, but his face is still sporting a massive smile. 

“Besides,” he drawls, “My father is giving me the silent treatment right now, it’s put me in quite a good mood.” 

“Over Ravenclaw,” Hermione says shocked, “But it’s the house of cleverness and wit, surely he must be overjoyed with that. Not everybody gets to have smart children.”

“It’s Slytherin or nothing with him,” Draco shrugs it off, clearly pretending to be unbothered. Harry can see that there are bags under his eyes though, and he sits tensely, his arms wrapped arounf himself – protectively. 

“What about you, Harry,” Ron asks, also picking up on how uncomfortable Draco is. “Are you going to write home to your folks. What will they think?” 

Harry scoffs, “I don’t think they’d want to hear from me, it might interrupt them pretending I never existed.” That plunges the whole table into silence; it’s clearly not what they were expecting. The Boy Who Lived’s family isn’t honoured to even be related to him. Hardly. 

“I think I might go and visit Hagrid this evening,” Harry says, steering the conversation away from him and family. “Does anyone want to come with me?” 

 “I can’t,” Hermione says apologetically, “I said I would do something with Pansy and Daphne.” Pansy Parkinson and Daphnee Greengrass are Hermione’s dorm mates. Both seem nice enough, Harry thinks so atleast, and both seem earnest to become Hermione’s friends. 

“Me either,” Ron says, “I’m playing chess tonight with Ernie Macmillan.” He seems quite excited by this and Harry doesn’t know if it’s the chess of the fact he’s making new friends completely out with his family. Probably both. 

“I guess I’ll go with you, Potter,” Draco grumbles. Draco is a considerably grumpy person and definitely the one he knows the least. “Seeing as I have nothing better to do.” 

Harry nods; he thinks it’s purely a front, self-preservation. “Cool. We could go at five?” 

Draco shrugs, again. “Whatever.” 

Despite how grumpy Draco was he gets there before Harry. He’s standing outside Hagrid’s hut as Harry rushes down the hill to him. “It’s freezing out here Potter, and you’re late.” Harry thinks Draco is probably being a bit dramatic. 

It’s mid September and although it is getting colder in the evenings the sun is still in the sky and Harry is out in a simple hoody and jeans; he is not cold. He thinks, Draco just enjoys to complain. 

They walk over to the enormous wooden door to the hut, Harry stretches to try and reach the huge iron knocker – Harry thinks it’s possible larger than his head. He hears a clatter from inside, then a few thuds before the door is being pulled open. 

“What do ye want?” Hagrid asks; sees nothing, looks down and sees the two boys. “Ah, Harry, you’re so tiny, eh?” 

Harry flushes red at the comment of him being small. He is, but does it really need to be pointed out by everyone all the time? Draco cackles with glee next to him, they bump shoulders. “Come in, Come in, bring yer friend.” 

They walk in, and push themselves onto a large bench by the table. Their feet dangle far off the floor. “Tea?” They both nod. They sit and drink tea out of cups – they’re closer to bowls for Harry and Draco – and eat cookies. The cookies are not pleasant, hard and tasting peculiar; Harry isn’t one to turn down food though.  

He sees Draco pocketing his cookies every now and again. Harry’s relived he’s not being outright and rude. “So, who are ye?” Hagrid asks, looking at Draco with narrowed eyes. 

“Draco,” Draco says, sipping his tea. “Draco Malfoy.” 

“Malfoy, eh?” Hagrid says, setting his tea cup down. He looks suspiciously at Draco, then looks at Harry as if to say: ‘Him? Really?’ 

Hagrid doesn’t seem to know what to say. He settles for: “I know yer father.” 

“Atleast you don’t have to live with him.” 

Draco grins at Hagrid, and Harry has to stop himself from snorting out tea. Hagrid seems taken aback but doesn’t continue the conversation. He seems less suspicious of the pale boy, though.  

“How’s Slytherin treating you, Harry?” Hagrid asks in an effort to switch the topic of conversation. Harry shrugs: “Okay, I guess.” 

Hagrid nods. “Good then – that’s good I guess.” 

Harry bites his lip, chews it. “I – Hagrid,” he builds the courage to ask the question he’s been dying to ask. “My parents they – would they - ”

“They wouldn’t have cared.” Harry feels comforted but he doesn’t think he fully believes him. They may not have loved him any less, but he thinks they would have been disappointed. It’s funny, really. Harry thought that coming here was going to bring him close to his parents, but he thinks he’s never felt further from them. 

He doesn’t sleep well, and wakes up for the first day of classes late. He runs down to the Great Hall with ten minutes left of Breakfast. The tables are mostly empty, but he spots Hermione sitting at the end of the Slytherin one, nose in a book. 

“Hey,” he says, grabbing a slice of toast from one of the platters and dropping it on his plates. Hermione looks pleasantly surprised to see him, “Harry, you’re here, I thought you were going to miss classes. I thought I’d have to go alone.” 

He chewed at the toast – It was cold now and had taken on a slight rubbery texture, it was disgusting. 

“And leave you alone?” He smiles at her. 

“I think that I won’t ever get another moment of peace in my life with you boys,” she smiles at him good-naturedly. He grins right back, “Never.” 

They walk to class together. 

To Potions.