The Standard You Walk Past

Chapter 1

Draco recast the ward over his cauldron and set a timer for ten minutes. The last ingredient—a few drops of Horklump juice—sat in its own warded vial as Draco cleared up his work table. There was a minuscule ping as yet another unidentified object attempted to get into his cauldron, and Draco felt a dark satisfaction as that object rebounded back to whomever had thrown it; a few tables to the left in the row ahead of him, there was a loud squawk of surprise and a rush of words from Slughorn as he assisted that unfocused student.

Slughorn rarely approached Draco's table at the back of the Potions classroom. It suited Draco fine, having suspected that Slughorn was more of a hindrance than a help. Uncle Severus, he—

Draco shoved the thought away and focused back on his cauldron. With four more minutes on his timer, the milky colour in the potion was fading. He reduced the heat slightly and made a note in his potions journal.

Potter worked on a desk nearer the front, Weasel (Weasley) and Granger flanking him. The Boy Wonder was hunched over, and there was a brief flash of his hand above his cauldron as he tipped something in. Draco inwardly winced as a puff of white smoke rose from Potter's cauldron.

"Harry, my boy, you've almost got it!" Slughorn swept over to Potter, giving Potter a pat on the shoulder. "Shame, shame. Go work with Mr. Weasley for the rest, don't you worry!"

Potter mumbled something back, but Slughorn shook his head—a great theatrical move from Draco's position, but probably nauseating up close. "Don't worry, Harry! Everyone makes mistakes. Now, Mr. Weasley—"

Draco's timer chimed in his mind, drawing his eyes back to his cauldron. The last traces of milky white dissipated and Draco removed the heat and completed the potion with three drops of the juice and seven slow anticlockwise stirs. A brilliant green colour initially trailed after Draco's glass stirring rod, before the potion settled on a transparent aquamarine.

By the time Slughorn...deigned to visit Draco's workstation, Draco had bottled his potion and labelled it, table cleared. Draco kept his eyes on Slughorn's face, which was why he knew Slughorn did not even look at him. The professor glanced at the vial, muttered "Good," and wandered back to the rest of the class.

Draco discretely cast some shields before walking past the other students to put his vial on the front table. He was not hexed, this time, but that did little to stop the low bitterness at knowing that, once Slughorn saw the curled Draco Malfoy on the vial label, the potion would be dumped. Draco would have kept separate vials of the potions he made if it were not for the risk of being found and the likely accusations levelled against him.

He had to walk past Potter and Weasley on his way out. Potter's eyes were partially blanked over, whilst Weasley's cheeks were red with frustration. Neither of them glanced at Draco.

*

Draco sat at his desk in the dorm room, pre-dawn. The room was blessedly empty—Potter had been absent the entire night. Draco was almost worried though; he knew Potter wandered at night, but Potter always returned just an hour past midnight. Given that Potter was still out...there was a chance Potter would return whilst Draco was still in their shared rooms.

It was Headmistress McGonagall's idea to put them together in the same eighth year dorm room. A large number of Eighth Years returned so that there simply wasn't enough room in the House dormitories. As such, McGonagall had converted the East tower into temporary accommodation, and in recognition that the Eighth Year students were adults, they were to room in pairs rather than in large groups. On the face of it, Draco was supposed to represent Slytherin, Potter Gryffindor. Perhaps she hoped for a leading example of house unity; Draco knew the students were waiting with bated breath either for his own demise, or for him to orchestrate Potter's.