The Boy Who Lived... Unfortunately

Chapter 1 - The Boy Who Lived, Unfortunately

A new beginning,

A new chapter in my life;

Started the day,

When I thought it could be my last.

Hogwarts was not a place for continuity, as a rule.

In Draco's five years at Hogwarts, he had seen the headmaster, Dumbledore, be fired or suspended twice, the portraits, house-elves and teachers age considerably, and the girls become something more than just punch-bags. Doors and staircases moved, portrait subjects married, divorced, then re-married their way through hundred of paintings, and Crabbe and Goyle were progressively loosing more brain cells by the minute.

The school had been through five Defence against The Darks Arts teachers.

And there was the minor fact that the Dark Lord had risen again and was collecting minions of darkness from promising looking families, such as Draco's.

But one thing, during all of these, had remained the same.

Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived-to-smile-the-dashing-hero-smile-and-thwart-evil (which unfortunately was Draco's favourite team) and-who-would-eventually-save-the-damsel-in-distress-with-whom-he-would-fall-in-love-and-marry-and-live-happily-ever-after, would always, with out a doubt, no questions asked, hate, loathe, despise, detest and ...well not much like, Draco Malfoy.

Phew long sentence.

Now term began in the usual way. Draco arrived at the usual 10:30, and stored his trunk in the usual back compartment of the usual back carriage. He took his usual stroll up and down the platform, making his usual observations of first-year-Slytherin wannabes, and made his usual four or five passes at poor unsuspecting Ravenclaw girls.

For all that was said about them, they weren't so bad... looking.

On the train, met by his cronies, give them the usual task... ('Stand outside the door...what's a door...oh right...what does pummel mean...how do I know which ones are Gryfindors?')... Draco sat back in his carriage, smirking smugly to no one in particular, clicking his fingers at the joy of being such a good little merciless bastard.

If there's one thing I do right... he thought...

But his evil self-obsessing thoughts were most rudely interrupted when the door opened, revealing a bushy haired, buck toothed, cranky old bossy boots, Draco like to simply call ...Satan.

"Hey," he protested as she entered, "I'm supposed to make the threatening visit to your carriage! I am the evil one! And Goyle! Crabbe! I thought I told you this before, just because you fancy her, doesn't stop her being a Gryffindor!"

Hermione looked disgusted, but shook herself and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not here because I want to be!" she said hotly. "In case you haven't noticed, the train in absolutely full, there's no where else to sit!"

"Well we've all fit in before! And where's your precious Harry not-potty-trained and Weasel-head."

"There's an exchange trip on," Hermione explained coldly, "so there's more students this year. And Harry and Ron are coming soon. As soon as Mrs Weasley gets her sandwiches sorted!" She laughed quietly to herself, and then crossed the compartment to sit opposite Draco, who scowled.

"Yeah well, you can't all come in here!" He complained, "I know I'm brilliant, but all three of your auras would out-weigh even me!"

He sat and grumbled to himself, but there was nothing he could do, and she knew it, and he knew she knew it, smiling smugly to herself as she pulled out another stupid book from her trunk and leaned back and started to read.

Draco crossed his arms and started to sulk

"Don't pull faces, Malfoy, it'll stick that way!"

Oh great, Weasel-butt had arrived.

Ron peered at Draco. "Oh, is that what you want? Don't worry, I understand, with a face like yours..." Ron jeered.

"Shut up!" snapped Draco, sulking even more than ever now.

"Look at that face," remarked Hermione, nose wrinkled in disgust. "What a baby!"

"Shut your face, Mud-bl..."

The door slid open again with a resounding bang.

"What was that Malfoy? What were you going to call her?"

Oooh the sun is shining on me today it's the Boy-who-lived-to-screw-up-the-lives-of-evil-minions.

"Nothing, Pot-head!" Draco snapped. Though he couldn't think why he didn't say it, Harry had never stopped him before.

For some reason, Hermione and Harry seemed amused by this. "Pot-head!" giggled Hermione "Harry Pot-head!"

Draco looked up at them, face as blank as Weasley's, for once. "Wuh...?"

Harry looked about to scorn him, but Hermione cut in. "Oh, leave it Harry. He obviously doesn't follow the Royal Family"

The two of them giggled some more until Draco started to get quite annoyed.

That is, to put it lightly.

"Shut the fuck up, stop tittering like a pair of school girls, I realise that you are, Potter, but Beaver over here isn't and besides you are doing my FUCKING HEAD IN! And don't look at me like that, I am a PREFECT, I have a BADGE, I can fucking send you DOWN!"

Draco stopped when he realised he was standing on the seat, screaming like a mad man, waving his hands in the air, and possibly drooling, in front of the Dream Team.

And now, his hair was a mess.

Well that's puts a damn cherry on the cake, he thought.

No, cherries are nice; this is putting on a fucking lemon

Draco sat down without a word, pulled out a mirror and started to repair the damage done to his hair. His usually pale face was tinted a faint pink.

Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, but came to a silent agreement that they should probably stay quiet.

For the rest of the train journey, Draco sat back and sulked, pretending that he wasn't watching or listening to them, when in fact this was exactly what he was doing.

"...I don't know if it's a good idea, without mum knowing. I mean you know what she's like, but then, when have Fred and George ever cared?" Weasel-nose was saying.

Hermione giggled, "Well for once, I'm agreeing with them. Its not like they are likely to fail is it? And it is what they want to do...besides, I think it's a really good idea!"

"Well if that isn't an omen, I don't know what is!" said the Boy-who-lived...unfortunately. "When has Hermione ever approved of what Fred and George were up to? I agree anyway. Your mum won't mind too much."

Weasel-by-name-weasel-by-nature bit his lip. "I dunno, she might you know."

Harry shook his head. "They've done way worse than start of their own business before, haven't they? And she's always forgiven them!"

"And besides, they're doing so well!" added Hermione.

Draco watched as Harry flicked at Hermione's hair playfully. "You would know!" he exclaimed.

"Hey, I thought I'd give them a good start," Hermione protested, giggling.

"Do you always giggle this much, or is it a hormonal thing?" Draco interjected grouchily.

"Ooooooh someone is a little moody today!" teased Hermione.

"Yeah, what's up, Malfoy, got PMT?" added Ron.

Harry didn't say anything.

Draco wondered briefly why he got a queer feeling in his stomach when he realised this, but was interrupted by a breath of fresh air.

No, not literally!

Pansy Parkinson had walked into the room.

Wow, she really got pretty over the summer, thought Draco, not that she wasn't before, but now she has, whoa, nice legs, and whoa, nice hair and whoa, big ti...

"Hi, Draco," Pansy crooned.

Wow, she really got ugly over the summer, Harry thought, not that she wasn't before, but at least then she had hidden her horrible legs, and tied back her horrid hair, and ... well that part isn't so bad!

"Hiya Pansy! Come to save me from dying a horrible death in the hands of the dream team?"

Pansy giggled.

Like music to my ears, thought Draco.

Like a fucking cat being throttled, Harry thought.

"Hey, why didn't you have a go at her for giggling," Hermione said.

Out loud

Ooops.

Draco scowled. "She laughed, you screeched, there is a difference!"

Harry bit his lip hard to stop himself from saying what he wanted to.

"Draco," cooed Pansy, "I was wondering if I could join you in here. Our carriage has been over-ridden by tiny first years. The others don't mind but..." she gave and airy look down her nose and leaned back against the door, sticking out the appropriate part so that he could get a better view "...I think I'm the only one who's actually grown up over the holidays."

"Be my guest," said Draco with a dashing smile.

Hermione pinched herself. Just cos he's got a nice smile... he's still a bastard

Give me a B

B!

Give me an A

A!

Give me an S

S!

Hermione decided to stop playing games inside her head before the others noticed and got worried.

Give me a T, A, R, D! What does it spell?

* * * * * *

They reached Hogwarts just as the setting sun was staining the sky a red-orange. Hermione saw Harry looking up at the moon, which was full, with a sad look in his eyes.

"What's up?" she whispered to him quietly as the others busied themselves with baggage.

"Nothing," He replied, "I'm just thinking about Lupin...you know, he's the only one left, who...who knew my father well."

Hermione smiled. "Apart from Snape, you mean" she said.

Harry gave an appreciative laugh. "Yeah, apart form him...and Wormtail."

The two laughed and turned back to their trunks.

* * * * * *

"May I ask...?" Draco looked at Hermione with distaste as she struggled with a round container that didn't seem to want to be opened.

"Shut...up.... and...help...me!" she gasped.

Draco sighed exasperatedly and bent over to try and prise the lid off. That failing, He stood up and gave it a sharp kick.

The lid burst open.

"Sometimes, violence is the answer." He told Hermione wisely. "However, now my toe is bleeding."

He bent down to examine the damage. Once satisfied, he stood up and addressed Hermione once more. "So, pray tell, why are we standing in the corridor when everyone else is on their way up to their dormitories, wrestling with round purple boxes?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and pointed to the open box. It gave a disturbing tremor.

"Hagrid gave me it for my birthday. I thought I'd better wait 'til I got to Hogwarts to open it...just in case..."

"What? You let me come near an object from HIM without warning me?" cried Draco, scandalised.

Hermione rolled her eyes once more. "He'd never send me anything dangerous."

Draco looked at her for a few seconds then shook his head.

"Too easy."

Together, they got down on to their knees, and peered over the rim of the box.

"So, where are your bum-chums at? Why aren't they helping with this little mission?" Draco inquired.

"Harry's busy. Ron said he was busy."

They peered more closely into the seemingly empty box. From the middle of the smooth purple base there came a ripple, which seemed to rise like waves until the base looked like a stormy sea. A miniature tornado was spiralling around in the corner (despite the fact the box was circle) and there were several flashes of light every few seconds.

"I know what it is!" said Hermione amazed, "It's a storm box!!"

Doy, thought Draco, she finally caught on. However he thought it a little mean to voice that opinion.

"Really? Is it? I would never have guessed!"

Hermione gave him a dark look. "If you're going to be like that, push of!" she told him

Exit Draco Malfoy, looking very confused about what he is supposed to be pushing.

* * * * * *

"I believe I can fly...I believe I can touch the sky...."

Draco flitted his hands for a second. It was ok, no one was watching.

"I BELIEVE I CAN FLY! I BELIEVE I CAN TOUCH THE SKY! DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DUM DE DUM! SPREAD MY WINGS AND FLY AWAY! I BELIEVE I CAN SOAR! DE DE DE DE DE DE DE OPEN DO-OR! I BELIEVE I CAN FLY! I BELIEVE I CAN FLY! I BELIEVE I CAN F-L-Y!"

Draco paused and looked in the mirror. His reflection was standing on the bed, flapping his arms in a wing like fashion and pulling some very dramatic facial expressions.

Draco wondered momentarily if it was because the mirror was enchanted.

The laughter from the doorway seemed to ruin that possibility.

Draco's friend Blaise entered.

"Having a mid life crisis, Draco?"

"Nope,"

"A brief psychotic moment?"

"Nada"

"Right. So you just missed your broom a little too much"

Draco flung out his arms dramatically, leapt from the bed and landed in front of Blaise. He threw back his hand and held it theatrically against his forehead.

"You just don't understand my talent. My creativity is surpressed. How will I ever achieve self-actualisation, when even my best friend doesn't appreciate my singing skills and theatrical genius?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow.

Draco hung his head. "Ok, ok. That stupid muggle Granger had music on the train and now she's got that stupid song in my head. And she just shouted at me!" Draco stuck out his lip artfully, and Blaise laughed.

"You nutter, Draco. What did she shout at you for? And pull in that lip, you look like a 4 year old!"

Draco sniffed and sat down on his bed. "I dunno, she had some box thing that I helped her open, out of the kindness of my heart! And then she told me to push off. Well I wasn't going to listen to her after she gave me that kind of cheek, so I left instead!"

Blaise rolled his eyes, but he looked puzzled.

"Why did you help her?"

Draco opened his mouth, paused, and sat back with a bewildered expression on his face. He forgot to close his mouth.

"Blaise?"

"Yep?"

"Did I help Hermione Granger?"

"Yep"

"A mud blood?"

"Yep"

"I helped her?"

"Yep"

Draco paused. "Blaise?"

"What?"

"I am I going completely insane?"

Blaise surveyed him, hands clasped. "I have only one thing to say to that Draco."

"What?"

Blaise swung on his heel and sauntered out of the room, singing softly "I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky..."

Draco took that as a yes and proceeded to crush a bag of Anger Beans in the palm of his now sweaty hands.