Draco had never shied away from attention before; as an only, spoilt, child he had basked in it. His mother had doted on him and while there was some distance between him and his father, he had always revelled in showing his father what he could do. This longing for attention had carried with him into his teenage years; he never passed up an opportunity to show off or have all eyes on him. Whether he was simply boasting in the Great Hall about the large care package Narcissa had sent him or in the air as the revered Slytherin Seeker, Draco loved the feeling of being the focus of people’s interest. Now, however, he’d give his right arm to be invisible.
The Sorting was awful; without sounding self centred, Draco felt like everyone’s eyes were on him rather than the first years at the top of the Great Hall. He tried to act natural as he clapped along with the rest of the table when there was a new Slytherin sorted and almost cheered when it was time for the feast. Surely then they’d stop staring at him? But maybe he was just being paranoid. He couldn’t be that interesting to look at when there was a sumptuous feast in front of them. However, he was painfully aware that the hairs on the back of his neck were tingling and yet every time he turned around to see who was looking at him, all eyes were carefully averted. Everyone seemed duly focused on their food, or were sufficiently involved in conversations. He moodily stirred his stew; rescuing the vegetables from their thick, gravy confines and plopping them back into the bowl. His appetite had abandoned him at the door. He didn’t need to perform Occlumency to work out what every single person thought of him; their faces said enough. They didn’t want him here. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t deserve to be here, but that was alright; he agreed with them. Draco snuck a look out of the corner of his eyes at his fellow Slytherin pupils. The first years stared avidly at his peculiar appearance; most of them who had older brothers or sisters had probably heard stories about Draco, and everyone had heard stories about the Malfoys in general. The older students were more subtle; they satisfied themselves with dirty, contemptuous looks in his direction. Last year, he had been almost been like a hero to them. Now, in their eyes, he was a traitor. His year had only just begun and he had already made some dangerous enemies.
Draco raised his eyes from his bowl of stew; the bowl had been sitting there for quite some time now without being eaten, and the floating pieces of soggy vegetables were making him feel slightly nauseous. His eyes immediately locked with the large brown ones belonging to Hermione. Unlike him, she wasn’t sitting alone. Ginny Weasley was next to her, and appeared to be involved in what seemed to Draco to be a very important conversation. However, Hermione didn’t seem to be listening; on the contrary, she looked absorbed in her own little world. Her eyes looked slightly blank as they gazed absentmindedly into his. Feeling uncomfortable with the blatant though unintentional staring, he lowered his eyes to the his bowl.
Draco stayed like this for a few moments, scrutinizing the saturated lumps of beef that had sank to the murky depths of the bowl. When he trusted himself to look up again, Hermione was talking animatedly to Ginny. He glanced longingly at the empty spaces beside him. People were avoiding him as if he were infected with Spattergroit, and anyone who came within five feet of him would die horribly. He wasn’t used to this feeling of being alone. He’d always had someone; cronies like Crabbe and Goyle swarmed to him like a lost traveller attracted to the light of a Hinkypunk. No, he had never been particularly close to either one of them, but at least they were there.
Finally the discarded, leftover plates magically vanished and were replaced with mouth-watering desserts. Draco obligingly reached for a generous slice of chocolate cheesecake. He was anything but hungry but it was something to do. In all his years at Hogwarts, he had never not enjoyed the Sorting Feast. If this was a sign of the year to come, Draco decided he would have been better off not coming back at all. He tortured his dessert with his fork, ate a couple of mouthfuls, felt like he was going to vomit and put down the fork for good. He gazed around the Great Hall. The other students were happily eating their desserts and some were even reaching for second or third helpings. It would be a while until he could escape to the privacy of the Head Boy’s room. Draco transferred his gaze to the Staff Table. He found it odd to see Minerva McGonagall sitting in Dumbledore’s seat. He could tell she wasn’t completely comfortable with this seating arrangement; maybe she didn’t feel up to filling Dumbledore’s shoes? Draco hadn’t taken much notice when it was Snape sitting there but then again, Draco hadn’t taken much notice of anything that year. It had passed in a haze of fury, pain and anger. He wasn’t sure how different it would be to this year; this year, he’d be fighting his own personal war.
Draco hadn’t realised his plate had vanished along with the rest of the food and that the buzz of the Great Hall had simmered down to a reluctant silence. The students were watching the Staff Table expectantly.
Of course. It dawned on Draco. It was time for the Headmistress’ speech.
Minerva stood up and gave a small smile. Draco noted that while she didn’t have the same commanding charisma as Dumbledore, there was no denying she had presence. There was not one pupil in the Great Hall that refused to pay her the attention she deserved; there was a shared respect between them as they waited dutifully for her speech.
“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” she declared, her voice calm but steady. Draco couldn’t help but notice the compelling ring to her voice that he hadn’t heard before. “To the new students; I hope you will be very happy here. To the old ones; it’s good to see you back. Now before we begin, let us have a moment of silence for the deceased Headmasters of Hogwarts; Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. As always, they had the best intentions at heart. They will be very sorely missed.”
She bowed her head, her hands clasped and her eyes closed. The rest of the school followed suit. Draco hesitated for a split second but accordingly did the same.
Dumbledore, there. I’ve done it. See? You always said I could be good; well, here I am. I’m back. I’m not running away anymore. It’s not going to be easy. We both know that. But I’m here, aren’t I? That’s got to count for something. It has to. I’m not promising anything - I’m no Harry Potter. I won’t have the world bending down before me. But I can try. I’ll try.
He cracked open an eyelid. He didn’t feel comfortable being this vulnerable surrounded by so many people. The rest of the students sat with their eyes closed in silent contemplation. He wished they’d hurry up. He wanted to get out of here.
Minerva opened her eyes and with a drop in Draco’s stomach, he saw they were teary. He instantly felt uncomfortable; grief stricken people made Draco awkward. But Minerva pressed on.
“Thank you,” Minerva took a deep breath. “Moving on; I believe congratulations are in order for our newly appointed Head Girl and Head Boy, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. I hope that they will work together to make this year memorable for themselves and the rest of the school.”
An enthusiastic (though bemused) round of applause ensued. Draco caught sight of Hermione’s flushed face as the Gryffindors clapped harder than anyone. The Slytherin table clapped reluctantly as they shot disdainful glances at Draco. Draco directed his attention to his lap until the clapping died down. He didn’t pay attention to the rest of the speech, instead focusing on the scars on his hands until his eyes went blurry. Draco wasn’t a coward, but he felt like backing out now. How hard would it be to slip out of the Great Hall unnoticed? Would anyone really stop him? What would he do when he left? He couldn’t go home and face Narcissa; admitting failure was not one of Draco’s favourite things to do. No, he thought regretfully, he’d have to stay and stick it out.
Suddenly, there was a sound of scraping against stone as the masses of students stood up and began to file out of the Great Hall. It took a moment for Draco to register that they were leaving. He got up slowly, dazedly, as the first years stared at him expectantly. With a jolt, he realised they depended on him for instructions, directions and counsel. He couldn’t abuse this position like he did as a Prefect and a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. Draco would have to be fair and think about decisions before he made them and make sure they benefited not only him, but the rest of the school. He couldn’t suppress a shudder; he had seriously underestimated the position of Head Boy.
“Draco, come on. You need to show the first years where the common room is,” Hermione said, popping up suddenly beside him.
Draco nodded mutely and took a deep breath.
“First years, follow me! Slytherin first years, follow me to the common room!” he called, forcing his voice to be loud and authoritative. Hermione nodded swiftly at him.
“Remember, we have a meeting with Professor McGonagall once we’ve shown the first years to their common rooms, Draco.”
“Sure thing,” Draco mumbled.
The first years followed Draco obediently to the common room; either they were just a very quiet lot or they were terrified out of their wits. He showed them the boys and girls dormitory and told him that if they had any questions, they could always come to him. Draco hoped they detected the unwillingness in his voice at that promise.
He checked the clock on the black, marble mantelpiece; he had better get going to that meeting. Draco heaved himself off the black leather armchair and made his way out of the common room. He didn’t make it very far; he turned the corner at the end of the corridor and found himself face to face with a couple of fellow seventh year Slytherins. He recognised one of them; Harper, the reserve Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team.
“So, Malfoy. You’ve returned, like some sort of prodigal son. Last year not good enough for you?” Harper sneered. Draco couldn’t help but notice they were all tall, burly and a lot closer to him than they were a couple of seconds ago.
“Well Harper, I can’t say last year wasn’t fun. I mean, who doesn’t love being taught by trolls?” Draco said coolly. He sensed he was getting into dangerous territory here and his instincts told him to just back off, but a Malfoy never backed off. They always fought to the end, no matter how messy.
The group edged closer to him. Poor choice of words, Draco reflected. These guys bore more resemblance to trolls than human beings.
“You think you’re so clever don’t you, Malfoy?” hissed Harper. “Well watch out, that cleverness may see you ending up like your old man.”
Draco clenched his fists and attempted to barge past them. “If you’ll excuse me, fellows, I have somewhere to be. I look forward to continuing this conversation at a later date.”
However, one of the other cronies stuck out his huge arm in front of Draco.
“I don’t think so, Malfoy. You see, we’re not quite finished with you yet.”
Draco found himself being shoved back into the middle of the group. He thought he was strong, but these guys were on a highly superior level.
A siren seemed to flash in his mind. Get out, Draco. Get out.
“And another thing, Malfoy; we’ve heard that you’ve been getting quite friendly with that bushy haired Mudblood. Going to become a blood traitor like Weasel King?” Harper asked, a hard glint in his eye.
Draco noticed that somehow, they’d managed to surround him. He cursed mentally at the stupidity of this situation; he hated to admit it, but had the Dark Lord taught him nothing about the dangers of getting himself surrounded?
Draco glanced at his watch; he was very late. Hermione would be waiting for him in McGonagall’s office. It was his first chance to prove himself and he’d blown it. How would he explain?
“Got a date with the Mudblood, Malfoy? You know what; don’t need to answer us. I think that silence was answer enough.” Harper whispered.
They were very close now. If it wasn’t him in the situation, it would look almost comical. His wand was too deep in his pockets for him to defend himself and he was grossly outnumbered; there was about what, six to one? And he was wandless; he’d have to depend on brute strength against six magical trolls, as it were.
You fool, Draco. What have you gotten yourself into?
“Any last words, Malfoy?” Harper asked him, a cold smirk spreading across his harsh features.
Draco considered this.
“Yeah: go to hell.”
And with that, Draco sunk his fist into Harper’s stomach.
Reflection by Nitwit Blubber Oddment Tweak x
Chapter Notes: I'm so sorry this chapter has taken so long *ducks to avoid pitchfork* Anyway, Draco finds himself in a spot bother at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks so much to Holly (AlexPotter) for Beta-ing this chapter for me :)
And if I have any readers left - you know the drill! Read and review to your heart's content - and then some.