A Different Sort Of Life


Harry was sitting alone in a compartment near the back of the Hogwarts Express when the door slid open and in walked a boy with pale blond hair and a pale, pointed face. He had an air about him of confidence and haughty aristocracy.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” the blonde boy asked, but Harry sensed it probably wouldn’t matter whether he did or didn’t, so he just shrugged. The boy rolled his eyes at him, then stowed his trunk. Reclining against the seat back with his feet on the bench, the boy looked closely at Harry.

“So you’re Harry Potter,” the boy announced airily. He smirked at Harry’s startled expression, explaining, “I overheard those red-headed Weasleys bragging to their friends about helping Harry Potter with his trunk - like you’re some sort of celebrity. Which, in a way, I suppose you are, but not a real celebrity, mind you. I mean, how can you be famous just from having a scar on your head?” he scoffed. “And I hear you were raised by Muggles!”

Harry took offence at the way he said ‘raised by Muggles’. For Heaven’s sake, it’s not like I was raised by wolves! Er, actually, I might have been better off with the wolves. And he does have a point. Why would anyone want to be famous for having a scar on their head?

“What does it matter that I was raised by Muggles? My mum was a witch and my dad was a wizard, but I wouldn’t care what they were as long as they were alive,” Harry said in a low voice. He stared directly into the other boy’s eyes, mutely daring him to say anything, but to his surprise the boy looked rather stricken and a brief flash of sympathy and understanding crossed his face.

In a sudden burst of confidence, the boy said, “My parents are both from long lines of pure-blooded wizards. I’m an only child and it is everything to them, and to me, that I marry a pureblood and continue the line because there are so few of us left. In fact, if anything ever happened to my parents, I would probably have to live with my mother’s sister who married a Muggle. I wonder if they realize that I could be raised by a Muggle?” he asked out loud, seemingly startled by the thought.

He shook his head as if to clear it, and continued, “Of course, my family is very rich - my parents would leave me well-provided for in the way of money and our mansion would come to me when I’m of age, but I’d rather have my parents,’ he finished in a hoarse whisper. His cheeks blazed with color and Harry recognized in his eyes the fear of having said too much to someone he wasn’t sure he could trust not to tell.

He had just opened his mouth to reassure him when the compartment door slid open a second time. A bushy-haired girl with large front teeth stepped in and said quickly, “Hi, I’m Hermione Granger. I’m a first-year. You two are first years as well, aren’t you? I’m excited about the sorting. I asked around and I gather that Ravenclaw and Gryffindor are the best Houses, although I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad to be a Hufflepuff. Headmaster Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor. I hope I don’t get sorted into Slytherin. Hogwarts: A History says all the Dark Wizards have come from Slytherin House. Anyway, I’ve been going around the train trying to help Neville Longbottom find his familiar - he seems to have gotten lost. Have either of you seen a toad in here?”

“Not until you walked in,” the pale boy said rudely. “Now just be good enough to hop on out, won’t you?”

“Fine,” she said, sticking her nose up in the air. “Oh, by the way, you two need to get your school robes on. I’ve been to see the conductor and he says we’re nearing Hogwarts. We should arrive in a few moments,” she reported in a superior sort of voice. She exited the compartment, sliding the door shut with perhaps a bit more force than strictly necessary.

Harry sat staring at the door with his mouth hanging open. Never in his life had he heard anyone talk so fast. He shook his head, still in a daze. He looked over at his companion, who seemed rather angry for some reason.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked curiously.

“Everyone in our family was sorted into Slytherin House, except for one or two that we don’t mention by name. I’m going to be in Slytherin, as well, and I’m glad to know she won’t be in there with me. Frankly, I don’t care where I’m sorted just as long as I’m not in the same House as her. I would go completely mad. Five minutes in the same room and I’ve already got a raging headache.”

He stood up to get his school robes out his trunk. Harry got his out as well. As they pulled them over their clothes, Harry said, “Er, you never told me your name.”

The boy was staring moodily out the window into the darkness, so Harry saw the surprised expression on his face in the reflection.

“Sorry.” He turned towards Harry and held out his hand. Harry shook it.

“My name’s Draco Malfoy.”

They separated when the train reached the platform and all the first years were herded into boats for the ride to the castle. He didn’t catch sight of Draco again until he ran forward to sit on the stool, waiting on the Sorting Hat to announce his House.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The next morning Draco received a smoking red envelope called a Howler.


***

Five Years Later



Draco grabbed his book bag and left the boy’s dorm, taking the steps two at a time. Harry had already gone downstairs to find Hermione, hoping she would give them some help with their Transfigurations homework before breakfast. He grimaced at the thought of the lecture they’d have to endure, then burst through the door leading into the Gryffindor common room. Oh, good - Hermione had already started in on Harry. He’d timed his entrance well.

“..and really, Harry, I don’t see that Quidditch practice is an excuse to put off homew-”

“It’s about time!” Harry exclaimed, grateful for the interruption. Hermione frowned at him.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said. “Honestly, I don’t think Quidditch practice is more important than homework, but try telling that to Angelina. She had us out there in the pouring rain for two hours! You think I’d prefer that to sitting by a nice, warm fire?”

“Fine,” she huffed, giving in with bad grace. “I’ll help you - but promise me you won’t leave it this late again. Give them here,” she ordered. They held their work out to her and she took the rolls of parchment, spreading them out in front of her and comparing them to her own essay. As her eyes darted back and forth between each, Harry relaxed against the worn back of the armchair. Listening to the soft scratching of the quill as Hermione began crossing out mistakes and adding corrections, Harry let his mind wander.

Her heard the exasperation in Draco‘s voice as he said, “Merlin, Harry, are you thinking about that date with Cho again?”

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his already mussed-looking hair.

“Yeah. I just don’t get it - what makes a girl start crying and run off in the middle of a date? I still can’t figure out what happened! I mean, one minute we’re drinking coffee, happily chatting about Quidditch while the next moment she’s shouting at me, and running out the door,” Harry said, completely bewildered.

“That’s because, unlike me, you have as much experience with girls now as you did in first year, which is none!” Draco pointed out smugly.

Hermione glanced up, amused. “Oh and you’re one to talk, I suppose? I heard Parvati telling Lavender what you tried on your date; did you seriously think she’d want you practically mauling her in public like that?” she asked scornfully.

“I wasn’t mauling her; I was appreciating her . Every girl likes to be appreciated now and again; you told me so yourself, Granger. And believe me, before I graduate, there won‘t be one good-looking girl left in Hogwarts that hasn‘t felt fully appreciated by Draco Malfoy.”

Draco leered at Hermione, who snorted loudly as Harry laughed. Hermione stood up, pushing her chair back as she gathered up her supplies. Passing them each their corrected essays, she said to Draco, “Yes, yes, very funny. We’ll see who’s laughing when you end up in the Hospital Wing with your wand up your -“

“Hermione!” Harry cut her off, shocked.

Hermione looked at him impatiently. “What? I was going to say ‘nose’. So, Draco, when that glorious day arrives, I’ll be first in line to tell you -”

“ - I love you?” Draco asked, batting his eyelashes at her.

“ - I told you so! ” Hermione snapped. She slung her heavy book bag over her shoulder and stalked off towards the portrait hole.

Draco smirked at Harry, who grinned back at him. They threw their things into their bags and followed Hermione out of common room, staying a safe distance behind.

“You’ll pay for that one, you know,” Harry remarked as they walked to the Great Hall, manoeuvring their way through crowds of students while trying not to jostle anyone, and avoid being jostled.

“I know, but it’s worth it. If she’s ignoring me, she’s not lecturing me,” Draco replied.

“Yeah, but she won’t be helping you study for OWLs, either. You don’t want to get her in high dudgeon, Malfoy,” Harry warned.

Draco was amused. “I could walk on eggshells around her and she’d still find a reason to be in high-dudgeon, Harry - you know how she gets around exam time. So, if she’s going to be angry with me, I might as well earn it.”

He certainly has me there, Harry acknowledged to himself. Draco was opinionated, persistent and stubborn, and what Harry found strange was those were three characteristics that Hermione also had in abundance. In the beginning, Harry often wondered why two such similar people couldn’t get along better, but soon enough he discovered that was the reason they found it difficult to be around each other.

They finally made it to their table and sat down next to a thin-lipped Hermione. Harry filled his bowl with his usual porridge, spooning sugar over it, while Draco poured himself some pumpkin juice. Hermione still gave no indication she even knew they were there. Draco’s grey eyes gleamed mischievously.

“Granger, can you pass me the toast?” he asked.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him, then silently and deliberately buried herself behind the pages of the Daily Prophet. Draco leaned across her, stretching out his arm towards the toast and wrinkling her newspaper in the process. She elbowed him hard in the ribs, causing him to gasp in pain. She gave him a self-satisfied smirk, then returned to her reading.

“Harry, we might as well be sitting with Nearly-Headless Nick. He’s just as cold, but he’s much better company,” Draco said loudly, rubbing his sore ribs. Harry groaned inwardly. Draco had finally succeeded in capturing Hermione’s attention, but even Draco shrank back looking a bit frightened as the paper was forcefully slammed down on the table.

“Is that so?” Hermione bristled. She stood up, her face a thundercloud. Heads were turning in their direction, but not many. Most of the students were used to this sort of thing between Hermione and Draco by now. Even the Professors wearily chose to ignore it, and Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.

“Here - I believe you said you wanted some toast!” She picked up the entire stack and threw it at him, then ran out. Draco just sat there, covered in toast, crumbs, and dripping butter. A post owl who had just made a delivery swooped down and grabbed a piece of toast in its talons on his way out, carefully avoiding being swatted into oblivion by a furious Draco.

From the other end of the table, Seamus yelled to Draco, “Was that some of that wandless magic, then? Making toast fly? Or is that your way of getting more OWLs?” A chorus of good-natured boos from the students around him greeted Seamus’ rubbish jokes, while others chuckled appreciatively.

Draco checked the Head Table and, seeing that no one was looking, flashed Seamus a rude hand gesture. Seamus laughed even harder. Draco grit his teeth and rose from the bench, brushing off his robes as best he could. It was a futile attempt.

“I’m going to go change my robes. I’ll see you in class,” Draco muttered, moving off.

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said. He looked around, but everyone had gone back to their conversations and their food. Harry started in on his own porridge only to discover it had turned to a hard, cold lump. He put his spoon down and pushed the bowl to the side. This is going to be a long day, Harry thought to himself.

***

By the time evening had rolled around, Draco and Hermione had actually managed to declare a cease-fire and were even willing to be partners during the DA meeting. As usual, the trio entered the Room of Requirement a bit early in order to prepare the room for Harry’s lesson. Tonight, he was going to try to teach them to cast the Patronus Charm. This lesson was going to be the most troublesome as, first of all, they wouldn’t be able to practice on a boggart Dementor like Harry had done and secondly, even without a boggart, the spell was a difficult one to master.

Still, Harry was determined to make a go of it. Regardless of what Umbridge and the Ministry said, Voldemort was back and it was only a matter of time until the Dementors abandoned Azkaban to join him. Before that happened, Harry wanted to prepare as many members of the DA as possible by teaching them the Patronus. As Draco said, Wilbert Slinkhard’s book would only prove useful if they chucked it at a Dementor and somehow managed to knock it out cold.

Draco had a personal stake in these meetings and no one worked harder than he did - not even Hermione. And for once she didn’t grudge someone mastering a lesson before she did, because Draco’s sorting into Gryffindor had not been looked upon with favour by his father. Draco hadn’t known at the time of the sorting that his father was a Death Eater - he only knew that his father supported the Dark Lord in secret, as did many of his friends. Upon Voldemort’s return, Lucius had been punished quite severely for his obvious failure to instill the correct values in his traitorous son.

His mother’s love for him had never wavered, but after that night with the Dark Lord, his father had grown cold towards him. Draco would have feared for his life if he hadn’t been at Hogwarts. No one, not even Voldemort, was able to penetrate the castle’s defense. Hermione had been quite happy to quote Hogwarts: A History to Draco in order to firmly reassure him that he was well protected.

As these thoughts swirled around in his mind, seven o'clock finally came and students began trickling in. They sank down on the soft, red silk cushions to listen while Harry explained how the charm worked.

“Dementors feed on positive emotions; they will drain every bit of happiness from you until you are left with your saddest, most painful memories. The Patronus is a projection of positive thoughts, usually in an animal form. This animal form becomes a shield between you and the Dementor and, since it’s a strong projection of the positive thoughts its hungry for, the Dementor will naturally turn its attention to it, rather than you. So, if you’re ready, you and your partner find a spot in the room to stand and be sure to give each other plenty of space.”

When everyone had gotten up, Hermione banished the cushions to land in a neat stack beside the bookcase. They each held their wand in the ready position, all eyes on Harry as he said, “First, I want you to think of a memory - the happiest one you have. When you have it, I want you to concentrate hard on that memory, focusing on how happy it made you feel. Once you have the memory and are concentrating on it, aim your wand at the imaginary Dementor in front of you, saying the words, “Expecto Patronum”. Got it? Then begin.”

There were mingled shouts of excitement and fits of frustration, but after an hour’s time, most of the Defense Association members had at least managed to make a puff of silver vapor come from the tip of their wand, while others like Hermione had their fully corporeal Patronus moving about them.

Intent on instruction, Harry heard the door to the room open but didn’t see anyone come in. It went quiet in the room as Dobby approached Harry, fear in his large, round eyes. It didn’t take long for Dobby’s fear to translate into one word : Umbridge.

Harry grabbed the Marauder’s Map he always had with him during these meetings, while Draco ushered people out the door.

“Draco, tell them to run to the bathrooms or the Library!” Draco nodded, checking the corridors as members left the room at top speed. He put Hermione in charge of getting the rest of the members and herself to safety, running over to look at the map.

“Harry, get out of here; Umbridge can’t find out you had anything to do with this. She‘s longing for an excuse to expel you - now get out. I’ll do what I can,” They ran for the door, Draco pushing Harry towards the left while he himself ran to the right.

Draco sprinted down the hallway only to be hit with a trip jinx and fall at the feet of Dolores Umbridge. “Ah, Mr. Malfoy. What a pleasure to see you,” she said sweetly as she grabbed his upper arm tightly and escorted him straight to Dumbledore’s office.

When they arrived, Professor Dumbledore was seated at his desk. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, along with Percy Weasley and several Aurors were standing close to the fireplace. Also present was Professor McGonagall looking more tightly-strung than Draco had ever seen her.

Draco found himself standing next to a perch, looking with admiration at the phoenix, Fawkes. His attention was roughly dragged away from the bird when Umbridge demanded he tell them about the secret meetings. Draco appeared completely Confunded as he asked, “What secret meetings?”

“Meetings held by a group of students who refer to themselves as the ‘D.A.’ Now I want to know what that stands for, Mr.Malfoy, and I want to know the name of every single student who was at that meeting tonight,” Umbridge seethed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Draco said heatedly. “I was just going back to my dorm when -”

Dolores laughed her sickly sweet laugh. “Well, if you won’t tell us, then maybe this young man will be more cooperative,” she said as Blaise Zabini, a fifth-year Slytherin, walked in with Harry Potter. She motioned for Blaise to sit Harry in the chair next to her.

“What? No! Harry Potter isn’t capable of organizing a tea, much less secret meetings, Professor,” Draco said haughtily. “The meetings were my idea. It was me. The D.A. stands for ‘Draco’s Army’.”

A soft laugh came from the direction of Dumbledore. When everyone else turned to look at him, Draco glanced at Harry who mouthed, ‘Draco’s Army’? and rolled his eyes. Draco smirked. He quickly wiped it off his face as Pansy Parkinson ran into the office.

“Here it is, Professor Umbridge,” she panted. “It was in the room hanging on the wall.” She gave the parchment to Umbridge and Harry and Draco immediately recognized it. It was the member’s list with all their signatures and the name of their group -

“ - Dumbledore’s Army!” Umbridge said triumphantly, “And look at this, Minister, it shows the leader to be…Harry Potter!” The Minister grabbed the list from her hands.

Dumbledore swiftly stood and came around his desk to Draco’s side. Fawkes gave a soft cry, and Dumbledore smiled. “You may leave, Mr. Malfoy. I will take it from here.” As Draco nodded and turned towards the door, a warm, aged hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I am very proud, Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly, “you have shown daring bravery and unsurpassed loyalty tonight. You have truly lived up to the name of Gryffindor.”



***





Hermione Granger’s fast-paced speech on the Hogwarts Express is pieced together from quotes in Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone, US Edition, pgs. 131, 132 and 137.

The inspiration for this line in the story:

“You’ll pay for that one, you know,” Harry remarked as they walked to the Great Hall, manoeuvring their way through crowds of students while trying not to jostle anyone, and avoid being jostled.

Comes from this quote:

“No man lives without jostling and being jostled; in all ways he has to elbow himself through the world, giving and receiving offence.” ~Thomas Carlyle, Sir Walter Scott, in London and Westminster Review, 12 November 1838