2
—Draco— Theodore is the first to greet me, if barely acknowledging me counts as a greeting. Of course, there's not much emotion in his words, but I didn't expect anything else. Theodore Nott would only get excited if he sees his father, and his father is in prison, so that won't happen anytime soon. —Theo—
—Hello, Blaise— My smile becomes more genuine, despite being the son of the black widow, Blaise has not so much of "black" about him. My father lets me join him because his mother over time has made quite a bit of fame and wealth in the magical world for my own luck, as it is a strange thing for a woman and more so for a non-native English woman. I see that the seat in front of the two of them is free, so I don't hesitate to sit down and prop my suitcase to one side. There are still several minutes before the train leaves, so I wouldn't be surprised if more people arrive soon.
The conversation I have with them is what you can call casual, I guess everyone has this kind of conversations with their friends, none of us are uncomfortable with each other, I think, but we can not tell personal things without hesitating twice before talking, everyone's families are prestigious enough not to go around telling everything that happens inside our homes. For as long as I can remember I have known that these so-called friendships are basically political and power deals. It doesn't bother me that this is so. In all the occasions where we get together it usually happens this way, or rather, the occasions where our parents get together and invite each other's children out of courtesy, a courtesy that no house hesitates to accept. The sooner we bond, the sooner we can start talking about future treaties for when it is our turn to take our parents' place, in the dark faction of the Wizengamot. It is simply the way things are, some might think that it is sad or very false to live dictated by the social, economic and political benefit that your social relations can bring you or take away from you, but in the end even those who believe that end up being affected by these parameters depending on their social circle, it's that only we are aware of this.
—Draco!— I hear my name being shouted enthusiastically, I know immediately who it is —Hello Pansy, Millicent— Pansy Parkinson. My parents have always demanded that I get along very well with her and I have really tried, but for as long as I can remember she is unbearable and doesn't seem to want to change that attitude anytime soon or maybe ever. I see the girl standing next to her. Millicent Bullstrose is much nicer than Pansy although that's not too hard to be honest. I don't usually talk to her much anyway, my parents don't seem to mind if I don't either so it's fine.
—Malfoy, Nott, Zabini— Despite using our surnames, her voice is close, she doesn't seem annoyed, apart from a slight look of displeasure at Parkinson, Pansy never abides by the rules of politeness, ones that Millicent was taught with the same care as all of us.
The two girls sat in the same seat where I was, clearly Pansy decided to sit next to me, no surprise there.
We continued with the previous conversation, but with the addition of the two girls, soon after we were talking the train departed. I could see my whole life leaving along with the train station. Before I knew it a smile had formed on my face, and it was completely sincere.
I'm not someone who likes change, I tend to hate it when things change, but for the first time in a long time I'm glad for one. It will be interesting to meet people other than the ones my father has introduced me to. Maybe I could make different friendships, of course I have to look carefully at their surnames, dad has informed me all about surnames that I should not be friends with. It is also obvious that if I do not know how prestigious is the family of the person I am addressing, I will ask a series of questions that I have already prepared.
Another change is that I will be away from my parents, I will miss my mom, but I am more than fine having a long break from my father. Although without a single doubt, the most important change is that, from now on, I will not have to endure any touch from my father, not even when returning for vacation. He said it himself, never again, never again....
—Draco!— that shrill voice again alerting me by calling my name, —What's wrong, Pansy?— I reply clearly annoyed, I mean, she practically shouted in my ear! —You're not listening to me!— No, I wasn't. It's not like she was really saying anything interesting either, she never does —I'm sorry, I was thinking about other things— She nodded and went back to chattering like before while I went back to ignoring her. I look at the other people in the compartment trying to get someone to save me, but they all look at me, deny, laugh and go back to their small talk while I'm caught between Pansy's words or just by Pansy herself without being able to escape at all to a single part of it, I'm not entirely sure why, something political for sure, my dad has made it very clear to me to never have a problem with Parkinson.
—Two chocolate frogs please— Blaise's voice snapped me out of my reverie, I don't know how long the journey has been, but the trolley lady has arrived so I'm guessing at least a couple of hours. Even though almost everyone in the wagon bought something, I didn't. Maybe I'll ask one of the people who bought frogs to give me one of their cards. Even if I had it already it would be fine, I don't mind collecting them a few at a time.
Quickly, I get bored again, I have nothing to do and I start thinking about the boy from Madame Malkin's store, he should be on the train.
—I'm bored,— I declare and as soon as I stand up Crabbe and Goyle stand up next to me, —I'm going to walk around the train,— Those two start to walk next to me. Pansy decides she wants to go too and stands up. What a headache —What are you doing—. I know my tone of voice shows my clear displeasure, but no one ever complains about it so I won't bother to regulate that —I'm going too—
—No— Crabbe follows my words by telling Pansy to sit back down and Goyle agrees with him. The three of them have a stupid argument that I don't care to listen to. I start walking, but it's not much until I notice and Goyle shut down their pointless argument to finally follow me, I guess whatever I do they'll go with me, in any case I'd rather they come than Parkinson, they're not very bright but more bearable than her of course, though that's not too hard. Anyway it's not that bad.
I have a clear goal, to find the emerald eyed boy I saw in Diagon Alley, maybe now he'll be more eager to talk to me now.
Within a few minutes of walking we exit the Slytherin area. They were about a meter or so behind before, however, after leaving the safe area they move closer to me. I know they are prepared in case they see two identical red heads. Even though we have not been to Hogwarts before, we are all warned to be cautious of the Weasley twins, they seem to take pleasure in playing "innocent" pranks on Slytherin's, especially if they are first years.
—Have you see a toad? A boy named Neville lost his— Bad manners, messy hair, abnormally long teeth, and a book in hand. This girl clearly had no business talking to me.
I stared at her, I couldn't ignore her completely —What's your name— I especially couldn't be rude if she was the daughter of one of the people my father did business with. —Hermione Granger— I walked past her, no one important and worse, as the last name didn't ring a bell, she was probably a mudblood.
Crabbe and Goyle followed behind me as I walked along the train in search of the boy with glasses, that boy I had met in Diagon Alley. As we walked along I heard whispers everywhere —Is it true, is it Harry Potter?— Potter —Yes, yes, it's true, I saw him with my own eyes, first carriage next to a red-haired boy—
—Is it true that his scar glows?—
Harry Potter was on the train?! I didn't think today would be this good, first getting away from my father and now meeting Harry Potter? I'm in heaven! My walk quickened considerably, both Crabbe and Goyle now having trouble keeping up with me. My eyes hurriedly searching for a red hair, the very thing I had recently been trying to avoid.
I go door to door opening all the first year carriages in search of a carrot head and a glowing scar, not caring much about the people I run into, it wouldn't be anyone important anyway, especially no more than Harry Potter. After opening several doors, almost reaching the beginning of the train, I find them.
I open the door quickly, almost falling into the trunk, I quickly inspect and there he is, ginger hair, but no sign of Harry Potter, just the boy from Madame's store. In front of him is a Weasley probably, his clothes look dirty, surely inherited from one of his absurd amount of siblings and surely the chocolate frogs he is eating at this very moment were the other boy's invitation. Everyone knows the Weasleys can't even get enough for a daily meal with peace. I go back to inspecting the other boy from top to bottom. Dark hair, rather long and messy, not something my parents would like. Pale skin, maybe too pale, you can see dark circles under his eyes easily. And finally those rather large emerald green eyes hidden behind a pair of round glasses, ones that look and are broken. His clothes look almost as worn as the Weasley's and clearly not his size, he doesn't seem to have anything interesting or new. If he had red hair he'd pass for a Weasley with no problem, although those eyes give him away, he doesn't have the boring lifeless brown eyes characteristic of that family. I'm not disappointed that he's sitting with a Weasley at all, I mean, he was really rude when I first met him so I couldn't expect much more from him. With both the first and this second impression it's safe to assume he's not from a very prestigious family, but I still feel my interest in continuing to engage in conversation with him growing up. That bothers me somehow. —What are we doing here, Draco,— Crabbe says in a whisper…I think it's Crabbe, sometimes I confuse them. Who cares, it's not important. —We're looking for Po- — ...Black hair, green eyes and...probably a scar on that ridiculously large forehead completely covered by his hair. Could it be that this boy with clear problems in communication with others and insufferably unpleasant, the boy of Diagon Alley, is Harry Potter?
—Is it true?— He owed me an answer —They're saying all down the train that Harry
Potter's in this compartment.— It's a little lie, it's true that everyone was talking about Potter, but I looked for the compartment...Not like a desperate person of course, I just did it fervently determined and Harry didn't need to know about it —So it's you, isn't it?— Of course it was him, I don't think I'm wrong, I never am —Yes— What an obsession this boy has with monosyllables, I imagined Potter would have wrapping words or a modicum of grace in his speech! I see him look curiously at the two bouncers behind me, why is he paying more attention to them than to me? Did I do something to make Harry Potter! hate me? —Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,— He looked at me again momentarily and then continued his scanning, —And my name's Malfoy,— I waited for some kind of reaction, after all people used to be even slightly scared by my last name, but Harry didn't react in any way, how can he not react to the most powerful pureblood name nowadays? It seems as if he doesn't know anything! —Draco Malfoy—
The redhead laughs, what the heck is he laughing at? Why would he laugh? —Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair,— It's unnatural that there are people with that hair color, the shade of blood, of pain. Redheads lack soul and money to hold on to —freckles, and more children than they can afford.— I turn to Harry, he has to know that he doesn't want to hang out with people like that. I know that my last name is more valuable than the carrot-haired one in front of me. —You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.— I offer him my hand, sure that Harry will be wise to accept my proposal and listen to my advice to stay away from this Weasley. He looks me up and down, fixes his eyes on my outstretched hand and then looks me in the eye, —I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks— he says.
...What? I feel an unpleasant sensation, that feeling of a fall, of almost falling when it wasn't like that. My chest, more than heavy, feels a slight emptiness that made me feel ashamed, so much that my face wanted to start reddening. I feel humiliated, that is undoubtedly the worst feeling, the worst thing that can happen, humiliation. It touched my pride and with it my anger. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, who I have spent my life wanting to know and knowing about, being my favorite story and one of the most interesting things in life had rejected, completely dismissed, my hand and not only that, he had put me in a position of inferiority that was really disgusting. What a disappointment... Shit, what a disappointment, I feel ridiculous!
I lower my hand and try to pull myself together so as not to lose my senses by bursting into tears or bursting into angry screams. —I'd be careful if I were you Potter,— I pretend to feel calm even though my blood is boiling inside. —Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you— Of course it would, I couldn't expect anything else from him, I never would. I want to stop seeing his face at this very moment, I can't look at it and not think about how one of my greatest wishes was ruined and all because of Harry Potter, the person the dream was about in the first place. His scar stands out more than ever and I find it impossible to look into his eyes.
I see Weasley get up as if he's going to attack me and of course Potter follows him like a lapdog. It's ridiculous, he is. —Say that again— what does the redhead want me to say again? I wasn't talking to him, I wouldn't waste my breath on that and of course I wouldn't dedicate such long sentences to a scum like a Weasley in my whole life, he doesn't deserve it and now I find out that Potter doesn't either. —Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?— As if they stand a chance with the two rhinoceroses that are Croyle and Grabbe...Gayle and Grabbe...Crobbe- whatever, compared to the fine sticks that they are, it's a joke that they'd want to start a fight —Unless you get out now— Of course, Potter has to be the one to talk, Weasley probably doesn't know how to formulate a sentence of more than three words. —But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys?— The two mastodons start nodding doubtfully, but feigning bravery, it looks fake, of course because their confusion is greater, they didn't know what I wanted, though I didn't know either, but it wasn't necessary for either of us to know. Neither of the two blood traitors wanted me there and as long as they didn't I would stay —We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some— Now if they start nodding decidedly, when food is involved they have all the confidence in the world, they almost look like starving Weasleys. But hey, that might come in handy.
Goyle (I think) approaches like a predator for his food to a chocolate frog, to which Weasley responds with the aggressiveness of an animal protecting what it has hunted and thus its food. I take a few steps away, I'm not planning on arriving beaten at Hogwarts on my first day or any really. Before either could touch their target, either Goyle the frog or the ginger Goyle, a really nasty rat, bites Goyle. He screamed like I'd never heard him scream before, agonizingly high pitched. That, mixed with the presence of the filthy rat, probably brought in from the filthy pigsty Weasley calls home, made the sensation agonizing, mostly because of the noise. I plug my ears tightly as I feel all around me a lot of things going on: Harry and Ron in between talking and laughing, some muttering from Crabbe, the repeated screams and terrified movement of Goyle who moves so much that he ends up throwing the rat through the air to what violently impacts with a window. That noise is what overflows my limit and I can't stand a single second more in the compartment, I push the door hard and get out of there immediately. I move fast through the corridors, I bump into a couple of people and it's unbearable, every contact I make makes me want to tear my arm, back and even my head off, I don't want to feel them, I can't feel anyone without the lump in my throat getting tighter and tighter and my hairs stand on end tensing all my muscles. I have to keep moving, I have to get out. I see the restroom sign a few meters away and I hurry the pace; however, when I walk a few more steps I notice that there is the candy lady's cart blocking the way, I have no way to get through unless I get into a compartment and get out when it has passed. I can't, I can't. When I want to notice the cart is already in front of me, without thinking I open a door and jump in. I don't notice the people who are there, far away I hear words, however, all I hear are screams, more screams is unbearable, every little noise produced by them is killing me. One rests his hand on my shoulder and I pull away like dragon pox, I push my shoulder back and try to walk out the door. I trip over some boys' feet and fall to the floor, I try to get up as fast as I can and the moment I do I escape from there and head for the bathrooms. As soon as I open the door I enter the cubicle farthest from the door. I sit still covering my ears tightly, my breathing is agitated and my face feels flushed. I think I'm close to tears if I haven't started crying already. I am helpless, all contact only manages to distress me more, I feel every little sound and every part of the clothes touching my skin. When I stop covering my ears, my arms automatically contract, my hands tighten my wrist tightly leaving me in a strange position, my eyes are closed and I try to control my breathing as best I can. This is stupid, my dad hates it when I get like this, I do too, it's stupid, it really is! I had a great streak since this didn't happen, I avoided any situation that would leave me in this ridiculous position. Just after Harry Potter ended up being such a disappointment!
I can't have a peaceful day! Crap! I hate it, hate it, hate it! As my thoughts continue to wander I begin to bury my well-cut fingernails hard into the flesh of my arms and scratch desperately, kicking, biting my lower lip to the burning. I can't see myself in a mirror, but maybe I look worse now than if I had simply swallowed a beating from those Potter and Weasley assholes.
I lose track of time inside the cubicle, but slowly calm down until I'm simply exhausted in every way after all that. I let out a sigh and walk out very slowly making sure there is no one who could see me. All clear, there is no one. I walk over to one of the sinks and look in the mirror, I'm disheveled though much better than I had in mind, my arms are a little red, but not much, it would go away fast thanks to the fact that I don't have long nails at all. I groom myself sufficiently before leaving the bathroom. Nothing has happened. Nothing ever happens.
I slowly open the door checking for any familiar faces in sight. I don't see anyone, but I still walk out with my head down and step quickly. I don't need anyone seeing me right now, it would make everything worse. I know I need to get back to the Slytherin carriage, I've already spent too much time outside and left my two shackles behind.
I walk and walk, I don't think about where I pass or who I touch. I just walk, I just go back, I just go on. After a few minutes of that on repeat and without knowing how, I find myself back at the door of the compartment that corresponds to me, I lower the handle and enter with confidence.
Crabbe and Goyle are already there, they seem confused to see me as if they believe that as soon as I disappear I cease to exist, they are really disoriented, they really forget how to function when I'm not present or giving them orders. Those two have serious problems. Pansy makes a face of pitiful horror and hugs me immediately, starting to touch me. While it's not comfortable, I'm definitely not repulsed by her touch as I would have been a few minutes ago. She cuddles me like I'm a baby, which I hate and puts her arms around me, they feel like chains.
—Hey Draco, where did you go?— Blaize greets me with apparent calmness, but I can sense a hint of concern? Or rather, hysteria behind his calm facade. I don't think he's worried about me, plus we're all aware that if one does something wrong all the other future Slytherins go wrong. Not to mention that none of us would want to deal with my father's reaction to any slip up. —Ah...well, the stench coming off a Weasley really is capable of killing, it only took me a couple of minutes around him and I started to get dizzy—
—Weasley?— his tone shows almost disgust, obviously. Crabbe and Goyle run over each other trying to explain what had happened briefly until Blaise managed to follow one of the two voices and ended up understanding the situation. I clear my voice. —So I headed to the bathroom to get myself together. Also, he had a nasty rat that bit Cr- uh, Goyle— I finish answering Blaise's question who opens his mouth to answer me, but suddenly a high-pitched squeak is heard that manages to alert everyone and stress me out beyond belief. It was Pansy, of course. —My Drackyyyyy!— Don't call me that —My handsome Drackyyy!— Oh damn, don't call me that —Poor baby! Are you all right? Does your head hurt? My dea- — Pansy had jumped to hug me and was trying to get closer and closer, even more so that I knew her goal was to kiss me, repulsive. I put a hand on her face to make her stop and stop using those ridiculous nicknames towards me, I put pressure against her face with my palm trying to separate us.
I'm not much for physical contact and especially not for her touch. She always wants to be glued to me, hug me and kiss me. I hate it. I don't want her to touch me. How can she not understand! I can't tell her, I'm not allowed to do anything that could break the ties between the families. But she should realize, by Merlin! I don't even hug often with my own parents or people much closer than she is.
She resists against my hand until I have no choice but to let her do it. She throws herself on top of me, which makes me fall down sitting next to someone I can't quite identify before she already starts touching me all over again as she laughs happily for having "won". Every place where she plants a kiss is a place that tightens, a place that I want to tear from my skin. I can't move even if I wanted to, I can only let her touch me, not that it's anything new either. At least this time it's not my father doing it.
—For Merlin's sake, Pansy, stop!— says Millicent effusively, fed up with Pansy's movements and noises, and she hits me! And it's not even my fault! She hits me with her elbow to stop me from leaning towards her, while I desperately try to get away from Parkinson's poisonous kisses and touches. —I'm not doing anything to you!— she releases me for a few seconds and it seems like the best seconds of my life until she hugs me again even tighter and closer to her. I see a hand land on Pansy's shoulder. —You are irritatingly loud, we still have many hours left for you to continue with your shrieking— she now proceeds to claim she doesn't shriek through horribly high pitched shrieking. —What are you messing with, I'm not even talking to you! I'm with my little dragon!— I hate that nickname.
Pansy's smile is the most disgusting smile my poor eyes have ever had to witness and I really pity his future husband who will have to wake up every day and see that next to him. If he's lucky they'll sleep in separate beds. She comes over to me, strokes my chin and stays glued next to me muttering things I can't decipher and don't care about either. —Pansy, if you're going to say anything at least say it out loud so we can all hear,— I look at Blaise gratefully, finally someone who can get me out of this, —Besides it doesn't look like your dragon is too thrilled to hear you,— I take it all back, Blaise. It doesn't suit me to have Pansy think I'm bothered by her, even if it's crushingly obvious, though by this point even that's worth it to get a momentary reprieve from generating her to walk away. She tries to squeal again while muttering a bunch of gibberish under her breath, glaring like a bulldog angrily at everyone. —Stop embarrassing yourself Parkinson, you're not helping anyone, you're only embarrassing yourself and your family's name,— this last was mentioned with particular displeasure by Theo.
Nott, the heir to one of the oldest pureblood families in the entire country, carries his last name with pride and people like Pansy forget how much influence he has. Not to mention that he hates Parkinson ever since she threw pumpkin juice on her grandfather for trying to hug me, she gets the shakes every time she remembers her parents' punishment for embarrassing the family in front of the Nott patriarch. They yelled at her in front of the entire dining room while my father smiled under his breath. I have to admit I couldn't hold back a smile at that moment either. And right now I can't contain it either, I let out a low chuckle causing the magpie's head to turn owlishly towards me. Her eyes look almost like they're about to pop out of their sockets and I wouldn't be surprised if foam escapes from between her yellowish teeth, a trait my mother rightly criticizes of her every chance she gets.
Pansy was just that, Pansy, and being her she just kept screaming. Everyone irritatedly fixed their eyes on me in hope that I could appease this strangely screaming flame. —Pansy, stop yelling,— my voice sounds calmer than it usually is. She looks at me with a frown and a pitiful face produced on a whim, —They're bothering me, Drackyyyyy!— Merlin, how I hate that nickname! Besides, she shrieked again! —...Pansy—
—Pan pan— What? —Call me Pan pan—...Suddenly we are all silent completely dumbfounded by the request that practically sounded like an order and when I was going to answer her with the best "no" that my mind could elaborate not to bother her Blaise whispers something to me, a suggestion for the common good, something that I would not usually choose, but between that and my other option, with that one I have more chance for my own benefit. This is going to be really horrible —But you must stop shouting— my next words are the condemnation I have ready —I'll tell you...Pan pan, but try to be quiet for the rest of the trip, ok?—
That's how the worst train ride ever found a new and very very stupid reason to completely want to throw me out of the moving train.