Present Mixed in the Past

Chapter 10| Not Fitting

The table of Lions erupted into a round of joyful roars and happy applause. Some people had even whistled! Of course, the other tables joined in, but they weren't as happy about it. They had hoped that he would be part of their house. To give their house his powerful name.

Draco narrowed his eyes in thought as he saw Potter smile toward the Lions, practically skipping his way over to a red head. It wasn't hard for the blond to quickly recognize the third year as none of than a Weasley, one of the twin Weasleys at that. Yet, unlike in his dreams, this twin was alone?

Subtly, he looked around the Hall at the other tables, but found no red hair that didn't belong in Gryffindor. That was, till he looked at his own table. He felt his perfect Pureblood mask slipping as confusion took hold of him.

"Isn't that a Weasley?" He whispered to the older year next to him.

The dark-haired student peered down at the new student before looking at the red-haired boy.

"Yes," he drawled slowly, "you should've seen the howler that was scent." Both Slytherins flinched at the thought of a howler.

Draco had a dream that the youngest male Weasley had gotten a howler after he and Harry came to the school late. Apparently, they had missed the train and the only way to Hogwarts was by their father's flying car. A deathtrap, he remembered his father calling such a thing. Even though it was a dream, the young Pureblood had felt his ears ringing from the high pitched screeching that was yelling.

The boy then looked down to see the Weasley smirking at him, sending a chill down his spine. He remembered those smirks from his dreams. Those were rarely a good sight to have. They were the smirks of a horrible prank that was about to ensue.

Quickly, he focused back on the food before him. Sitting up straight and, with perfect decorum that every good Pureblood was raised with, he grabbed himself a reasonable serving of the food presented to him. Before he was about to eat, he glanced to the red table.

Harry Potter and his forest green eyes were observing him with a gentle look. A familiar and kind warmth. His black hair was longer than in his dreams, but still gravity defying and he looked healthier too, less skin and bones. Seeing as their eyes had met, the Boy-Who-Lived flashed a sweet smile.

'He's so beautiful looking like that. I wish he chose to be with me.'

As much as the boy could, he reeled back from his thought, a blush burning on his cheeks before he bowed his head and ate his food silently. What was he thinking? Harry Potter was now a Gryffindor! Even if the boy had wanted to be friends, there was too much stigma around the House for any reasonable person to try and befriend him.

A sharp pain pierced the boy's heart, him narrowing his eyes. He really didn't like the idea of them not being friends. He wanted them to be friends. He felt elated that Harry had wanted to be friends! Yes, it confused him on why this Harry wasn't matching up with Dream Harry, but that was fine! He didn't care too much about that!

Okay, maybe he did... He and Dream Harry didn't become friends till so much later in life. They were enemies for so long... He remembered how his heart seemed to cry out in that pain, how it took their children becoming friends for them to get close. For them to even have a chance! A chance that the youngest Weasleys tried to take from them!

It wasn't an understatement for the young Heir to say that he wasn't upset about the thought of them dying. If anything, he remembered feeling wonderful and light when he woke up. It was far different when he woke up after Fred's death. It was a sickening feeling that made him sour the rest of the day, nearly bursting into tears whenever something reminded him of the fallen Weasley. Surprisingly, there were a lot of things.