The Night We Met

Chapter Five

When all three of them awoke from their train nap (Draco had probably been the first to nod off), there was a knock on the door of their compartment and who was the next to enter?

Neville. Longbottom.

Oh, this was good. Neville Longbottom was a pudgy boy in his youth, with a round face, a gullible exterior, and had been one of Draco's bully victims when Draco had been a boy. But Draco was older now, and as he stared at Longbottom's face, he'd rather have been sick.

"Sorry," Longbottom said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

Draco's compartment mates shook their head. But Draco wished he was still asleep, because the moment they did, Neville started wailing, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

Fearing that blubbering Longbottom would trigger a migraine, Draco decided to intervene. Maybe it would make up for how horrible he'd treated Neville while at school in the first timeline. "Hey now," said Draco, "He'll turn up. Want us to go with you to the prefect's carriage? I'm sure they can summon him for you."

"Oh," said Longbottom, miserably. "They can do that?"

"Yes," Draco replied. He looked to Harry and Ron as he said, "Would you like us to help?"

Ron looked uncomfortable with the idea, typical of Weasel. But Harry just stared at Draco, a neutral expression on his face.

"T-that'd be great," Neville said. "Thank you..."

"Draco," He introduced himself. "Draco Malfoy."

"Oh," Something in Neville's face changed, very quickly, "Oh. Thank you, but I'm gonna just go look in another carriage. I think I know where he ran off to, now. Sorry."

The boy had obviously been scared off. Draco turned to his compartment mates, his mouth open, but decided against it.

"What was that all about?" Ron said, swallowing a bite of chocolate frog leftover. Draco stared at the floor quietly, thinking.

He shook himself and looked up, only to find Harry and Weasel staring back at him, their faces intrigued. As much as Draco hated to admit it, Harry's face showed concern.

"Um," Draco managed (he figured he'd been beating around the bush for far too long), "You two know my father, Lucius Malfoy, right?" At once, Weasel nodded his head.

"Anyway, that boy, Neville Longbottom. He's been brought up to believe that my father and me and my family are bad. And rightfully so, at least, the bit about my family. But not me, rather, I-"

Draco was trying to explain this to them without setting Ron off. He remembered meeting Weasley and Potter in a compartment on the train, in the old timeline, when older Potter had refused his hand in friendship the first time. And now that Draco was explaining Lucius Malfoy to them, similarly (in his mind, to the time before), their expressions didn't change. So what had Draco done, to change Kid Potter's and the Weasel's minds?

"My whole family have been in Slytherin House. And if there were people that weren't, we don't talk about them. I had a cousin named Sirius who was in Gryffindor before I was born, but mum told me that he was blasted off the family tree. And Slytherin is filled with bad people, naturally," Draco paused, collecting his thoughts. He wasn't sounding like an eleven-year-old. He was starting to remember Crabbe, and Goyle, who had been his friends, but had used fiendfyre on the Room of Requirement. Dark magic. He remembered Theodore Nott. Death Eater. Pansy, a wannabe. Those who had stayed neutral had stayed alive, save for Pansy. Azkaban.