Draco Malfoy Was A Very Nice Person
Harry didn't know much about Draco Malfoy. He knew his dad was in government. He knew he was richer than most of the other students, second only to Zabini. He knew he played a good game of football. He knew Hermione complained about him being just as smart as her.
Other than that, he was just another kid in the classroom next door.
Except he was standing right in front of Harry, handing him a bottle of Guinness. And when Harry looked up at his silver eyes and relaxed smile, he couldn't help but accept it.
“I know you,” the boy said.
“Do you?” Harry said, knocking the bottle against the tabletop beside him and popping the top off.
“Potter, right? I do. You're famous around here.”
Harry frowned. “Famous?”
“Precisely. We should get to know each other. I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” he said. “Cheers?”
Harry shrugged and clinked his bottle with Malfoy’s. “Cheers,” and they drank.
~*~*~
Apparently, Harry was famous. He had completely bombed the entrance exam but his situation was so pitiful, the school accepted him solely for the publicity. All Harry had to do was behave himself and smile for the cameras. That was easy enough.
Harry’s head was starting to hurt from all the shuttering and flashing.
“Harry! Harry!” One particularly persistent reporter said and stuck a microphone in his face. “How are you settling into Brighton?”
“It's all right,” Harry said but was interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat. “I mean, it's wonderful. The teachers have all been very accommodating and my setmates make me feel right at home.”
“Well, not right at home or it wouldn't be very pleasant, would it?” Mr Lockhart said with a deep chuckle and clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“Right,” Harry said.
“What about your aunt and uncle?” another reporter said.
“What about them?”
“What do they think of you attending Brighton?”
“They’re probably muttering to themselves ‘good ridda—’”
“Mr and Mrs Dursley have entrusted their nephew in Brighton’s care and here, Mr Potter will receive the best secondary school education Britain has to offer,” Mr Snape said.
“Right,” Harry pursed his lips.
“Speaking of which, Harry should be getting off to class, shouldn't he?” Mr Lockhart said and when Harry glanced back at him he was flashing a bright white smile at the cameras. “Malfoy!”
Harry hadn't even noticed Draco Malfoy standing off to the side, arms crossed. At the sound of his name, he joined them at the middle of the foyer.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please guide Harry here back to class. Mr Flitwick will be expecting him in physics.”
“Of course, sir.”
Draco Malfoy met Harry’s eyes, motioned away with his head, and began walking to the east hallway. Harry followed.
Once they were out of earshot, Malfoy spoke, his gaze straight ahead.
“I hope you're aware, Potter, that you are very lucky to be here.”
Harry glanced at the side of his face. “I don't think I've ever been lucky in my life.”
“That's a fair conclusion. I know your story,” he said. “Dead parents. Abusive adopted family. They said your room was a cupboard under the stairs until you turned 12. I can hardly imagine. At least you inherited your parents’ wealth.”
Malfoy stopped walking and turned to Harry, fixing their gazes together. “Brighton was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. You must know you cannot take this opportunity for granted.”
“I'm not.”
“You are,” Malfoy said. “I was asked by Mr Snape to train you personally.”
Harry frowned. “Train me how?”
“At first, I was under the impression it would be simple media training, but obviously you need much more than that.”
“Obviously?”
“You can't hold your tongue. You slouch forward when you stand. Your hair and uniform are a mess. Your face is far too telling.” Malfoy cocked his head. “Shall I go on?”
“No,” Harry said. “Is that why you made friends with me at the party Friday?”
“Partly.”
“And the other part?”
Malfoy smiled at that. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”
“Boo,” Harry said.
“We should keep going. I'm missing a very important chemistry lesson for this.”
“You are such a nerd.”
“Aren't you friends with Granger?”
Harry laughed. “Touché.”
~*~*~
“Wait, they have you with Malfoy?” Ron said bitterly. “You haven't even been here two weeks and you're stuck with that prat?”
Harry looked at his friend's reflection in the mirror. “What's wrong with Malfoy?” he asked and put his toothbrush back in his mouth.
“He's insufferable, that's what! Just because he and his friends are stupid aristocrats!”
Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Malfoy is a royal?”
Ron scoffed. “Barely. The Malfoys aren't the main royal lineage. I bet he still finds a way to brag about it though.”
“Not really. He rarely talks about himself, actually,” Harry said. “This is the first time I'm hearing about this.”
“Probably waiting till he's charmed you over before sucking the life out of you.”
“You make him sound like a vampire.”
“I wouldn't be surprised if he was one!”
Harry turned around to look at his friend. “I think you're overreacting. Malfoy seems nice. A little aloof, sure, but nice nonetheless.”
“Nice, my ass,” he spat. “I'd sooner describe him as the inbred spawn of Satan than nice.”
“Ron!” Harry said. “That's way too far. I'm stuck with Malfoy whether I like it or not, so I might as well find some reason to like him, and this is not helping.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let's just go to bed.”
Ron walked past the sight of the bathroom door and Harry turned back to the mirror.
Maybe Ron was right. He had known Malfoy longer than Harry had. Perhaps he should be more cautious of the blond.
~*~*~
Harry walked into his maths class. Hermione and Malfoy were seated in the two front and centre seats and already had their books open. They were talking to each other and pointing to the pages.
Ron was in the middle row, his head down on his desk and covered by his blazer.
Harry took the seat next to Malfoy.
Hermione saw him first.
“Harry?” she said. “You never sit in front.”
“I thought I should see what it's like up here,” Harry said, glancing at Malfoy.
Malfoy nodded firmly. “Glad to have you.”
“Draco and I are just going over yesterday’s assignment,” Hermione said.
Harry didn't know Hermione called Malfoy by his given name. Harry also didn't know they had homework.
“We had an assignment?” Harry said.
“Goodness, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “And if you didn't do it, that means Ron didn't either. Ronald!”
Ron shot up in his seat. “Yes, 'Mione?” he answered, quickly pulling the blazer off his head.
Hermione shook her head as she made her way over.
“You're not off to a great start, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Academics are crucial to your image here.”
“I know that,” Harry said. “I really didn't know we were assigned work.”
“Mrs Vector assigns work every Thursday that's due the next day on Friday like clockwork. It’s usually five or six of the hardest problems of the chapter,” Malfoy explained. “I doubt you'll be able to figure them out on your own. I suggest you ask for an extension and I'll help you with it over the weekend.”
“Would you really?”
“Sure,” Malfoy said. “We’re already meeting up for your media training lesson anyway”
Harry grinned. He didn't know what Ron was talking about. Draco Malfoy was a very nice person.