"We have Transfiguration first with the Ravenclaws, then potions with Slytherin, then break," read Ron over breakfast, "Then Charms with Hufflepuff, Flying with Slytherin, Defense against the Dark Arts with Slytherin again, Herbology with the Slytherins-"

"Why do we have so many classes with Slytherin?" Asked Harry, annoyed, looking at his own timetable. "Five out of nine classes are with Slytherin, three with Ravenclaw, and only one with Hufflepuff."

"That's just how it is, mate," Said Fred, "It might be different next year."

"Yeah, we had that same sort of timetable last year," Said George, "But this year we're mostly with Hufflepuff."

Harry didn't know much about the Slytherins, or any of the houses for that matter, but he knew that most people considered them to be the 'bad house' due to its dark history. Apparently, Voldemort himself had been in Slytherin. But Draco had seemed nice enough - maybe people were exaggerating?

"As I was saying," Continued Ron, "We finish with Astronomy. But instead of going straight to class, we have dinner then wait until it's a bit dark outside before going up to the astronomy tower."

"What do we do until dinner?"

Ron shrugged "Muck about I guess, same as we would after a normal school day."

0o0oDraco0o0o

Snape's potions class was held in the musty, damp dungeons, illuminated only by candles and cauldron fires. The air seemed thick as Draco walked to the back of the class with the rest of the Slytherins and took his seat there. His godfather's class was one of his favourites, though he didn't imagine he would be paying much attention - he already knew all of what they would cover this year. Draco had made his first potion - a cough draught – aged seven, and had been hooked on potion-making ever since. He'd made countless potions with the potions kit he had received as a Christmas gift from his mother soon afterwards, and this meant that potions class would probably be a bore. He would have to sit through hundreds of lessons that he had taught himself years ago.

Snape burst dramatically into the class, cloak billowing behind him, and took his place on the slightly raised area at the front. He surveyed the class for a moment before beginning to talk, lecturing them on the "subtle art of potion-making". It didn't take long before he spied Harry, sitting next to Ron at the front of the class. A crooked smile came across his face, though it didn't meet his eyes. "Ah, Mr Potter. Our new... celebrity." Draco watched with the rest of the class as Snape began to fire questions at Harry, none of which he could answer (Draco could, though), and taking points from Gryffindor. Though Draco knew it wasn't fair to ask a boy who hadn't had any magical education to answer difficult questions, he snickered along with the rest of the Slytherins. Conformity was, unfortunately, a necessary part of the house.

Eventually, Snape seemed to get bored of taking ten points from Gryffindor and began to actually teach the class. There was to be no practical potion making today, only theory, all of which Draco knew. He began to doodle idly on his parchment, drawing Harry purely because he was directly in front of him. Draco liked drawing, though he wasn't very good yet. However, he was good enough that he was getting weird looks, and quickly scribbled out the sketch.

"Were you just drawing Potter?" laughed Pansy Parkinson, a girl who Draco had known since they were both toddlers. She could have been pretty, with a very pointed nose and pitch-black hair styled in a shoulder-grazing bob, but the fact was that she was too cruel to be beautiful. Everything about her was sharp, from her nose to her words.

"No!" Draco quickly hid the drawing with a piece of parchment. "Well, kind of. I was just drawing what was in front of me because I'm bored. I already know all this stuff. Gryffindor is definitely going to hold us back."

"Yeah, this is really easy stuff." She said, sniffily. "And you know what's worse? That stupid Granger girl who thinks she knows everything, even though she's just a mudblood. I can't believe they even allow people like her into this school."

Draco made a non-committal noise and went back to staring unseeingly at the blackboard. Granger might be a little precocious, but it was impressive how much she had taught herself in so little time. And who cared that she was a mudblood?

Draco's gaze fell on Harry and Ron, who were talking quietly while half paying attention to Snape. Clearly, they hadn't quite got the message that Snape had it in for them yet, and Draco was prepared to bet it wouldn't be long before another ten points were taken from Gryffindor. Sure enough, Snape's gaze fell upon them and he sneered.

"Malfoy, please swap seats with Weasley. Maybe that will teach them to shut up when I'm talking. And ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting."

Malfoy groaned as he gathered up his stuff, but in reality, he didn't care that much. It wasn't like he was going to miss Pansy's conversation. Ron, on the other hand, looked thunderous as he trudged over to take the seat next to Pansy, while Draco sat down lightly next to Harry. He received a smile from him as he sat down, which he didn't return. He didn't need some Slytherin snitching to their parents that Draco Malfoy was befriending Harry Potter. His father would probably kill him. However, when he noticed Harry struggling to answer the questions on the board, he still explained the answers. There was no harm in helping him catch up, surely.

After potions, there was a brief break during which time Draco hung out with some of the other higher-ranking Slytherins. He was beginning to realise how far his father's influence reached, as he could see the other Slytherins already respected him, influenced by their parent's respect - or fear - of his father. However, to stay at the top of the food chain, you need to show no weaknesses. The Slytherin hierarchy was the same: show anything less than raw self-preservation, and you were instantly prey. Sell out a fellow Slytherin or ally, and you yourself would be hunted. This was a game Draco played expertly: his emotions always veiled; his demeanour proud and strong; and his loyalty fierce to those he felt deserved it. This was second nature to him – he had been raised in this way of being.

The break was followed by Transfigurations with Hufflepuff, followed by flying with Gryffindor and the formidable Madam Hooch. Draco already knew how to fly, and had resigned himself to yet another boring class when before he knew it, things began to get interesting. A round-faced boy, Draco thought he was called Neville Longbottom, efficiently lost control of his broom, and before anyone had the chance to move he was on the ground with a broken arm. The Gryffindors looked on worriedly as the Slytherins snickered. However, no one except Draco saw Neville's remembrall lying disregarded on the ground, and no one noticed Draco as he bent and discreetly picked it up.

"I'm taking Longbottom to the infirmary," Stated Madame Hooch in her busy no-nonsense tone, holding Neville's shoulder as she strode towards the school. "I want your feet firmly on the ground while I'm gone. If I catch anyone flying, you'll be expelled faster than you can say Quidditch."

As soon as she and Longbottom had disappeared into the school building, Draco turned to the other students. "Longbottom seems to have dropped his little toy," He said in his practised snide voice "Shame. If he had it, he might have remembered to fall on his fat arse!" The Slytherins all laughed appreciatively.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Cut Harry, but Draco enjoyed the positive attention he was receiving from his housemates. He couldn't back down now.

"If you want it so badly, come and get it!" Draco hopped onto his broom and sped off, the laughter of the Slytherins following him. He turned when he'd reached a good height, and was startled to see Harry close on his tail, a look of anger mixed with exhilleration plain on his face.

"Give it back Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!" Harry shouted, coming to a stop a few feet below Draco.

"Is that so?" Draco laughed derisively. He dodged as Harry made a grab for the remembrall. "Have it your way, then." He threw the remembrall as far as he could and watched, impressed despite himself, as Harry went streaking after it. Say what you might about Harry's potions, the boy could certainly fly. As Harry neared the wall Draco flinched, expecting to see him go smashing into the wall alongside the remembrall. However, Harry made an incredible catch before stopping barely inches away from the school building, pulling out of his headlong chase at the last second. The crowd below gasped, and there was a smattering of applause as Draco let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He watched Harry descend into a throng of cheering Gryffindors.

As Draco started to descend, beginning to feel sullen about Harry's comeback, he stopped suddenly and pulled back up. McGonagall was storming onto the pitch, robes billowing, and very suddenly Harry was being led back to the school.

0o0o

Harry hadn't been seen since the 'Remembrall Incident', and the amount of hatred directed at Draco by the Gryffindors was actually borderline Slytherin. Even kids in the older years were giving him dirty looks. Weasley must have spoken to his brothers. They must think Potter had been expelled, and maybe he had. Draco ignored the feeling of guilt and focused instead on the positive side: his classmates all thought that the whole thing was a hilarious joke, and if Potter was expelled, then all the better. However, this attitude didn't appear to have spread to his Godfather, who called him out of his Herbology class during sixth period.

"Excuse me, Professor Sprout? May I borrow Malfoy for a moment?"

When Malfoy got out of the greenhouse, he and Snape took a short walk. In this time, Snape told him a number of things several times: how stupid he was, how immature he was, how he could have been expelled, and how angry his father would be when he received the letter from Dumbledore. He finished by informing Draco that he was to report to his office after school that day for detention.

"It's not my choice whether or not you have detention, Draco. McGonagall insisted. The best I could do was to convince her to let you have it with me instead of with her. And by the way, Potter is now on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I hope you're pleased with yourself."

Needless to say, Draco wasn't. His face burned as he re-entered the greenhouse. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him, but Draco ignored the look and got back to propagating his lurchweed specimen, stewing in a mixture of nasty emotions.

He had messed up within the first week. How could he have been so stupid? And now his father would find out, and then...

Blinking hard, Draco concentrated on gardening.

0o0oHarry0o0o

"Oi, Potter!"

Harry turned to see that Draco was storming towards him, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry was looking at Draco with an air of someone who had spotted a blotch of mould on the food they were about to eat.

"That's Malfoy to you, Potter," Draco spat. "Do you know how much trouble I'm in because of you?"

"You? In trouble because of me?" Harry snorted. "It's hardly my fault you decided to steal Neville's Remembrall is it?" Under his defensiveness, there was a definite note of hurt in Harry's voice.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Like you would know."

Ron came up beside Harry. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? It doesn't even make sense!"

Malfoy looked at Ron meanly, before turning back to Harry.

"Tell you what Potter? Let's sort this out properly. Meet me in the trophy room at midnight tonight, and we'll duel."

"What?" Harry spluttered.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco sneered.

Angrily, Harry glared at him. "If you duel like you fly, then I'm not scared one bit."

"I'll have you know that I'm an excellent flyer, Potter, and an even better dueller. So, see you at midnight. Unless you're too precious to break school rules."

Draco watched Harry and Ron walk away with a sense of satisfaction before turning around and making his way to Filch's office. Of course, he wouldn't turn up to some childish duel. But Filch would.