The Joys of Being a Gryffindor || Harry Potter

THREE

Their first lesson in their time at Hogwarts was Potions.

Of course.

That meant that Snape would be teaching them. And Snape was a close confidant of his parents.

After sobbing in the corridor, he'd picked himself up with as much dignity as possible and followed the crowd to the Great Hall. He waited only to see if his owl would swoop in, while gulping down two pieces of toast without tasting them, as he'd become too hungry to ignore it.

His owl hadn't arrived.

With the cold rejection of his parents heavy in his heart, he made his way to the Potions classroom. He was at least an hour early, given that he had rushed breakfast, but there was nothing to do in the meantime. Along his way, he passed the entrance to Slytherin. A feeling of dread and shame overwhelmed him as the thought of his parents' expectations of him filled his mind. He was supposed to be in there. With Blaise and Pansy, and even those other two idiots.

He was supposed to be in charge, with his minions doing his bidding, like picking on the Weasleys and Potter, and Hermione, and hating the school in general. He wasn't supposed to be alone, an outcast on his first official day, with no friends and no one who believed in him.

Slytherin appeared cold and macabre. He imagined screams echoing in dark corridors, spirits easing through the shadows as people scurried through in fear. A horrific image from one of the books in the Malfoy library came to him: a unicorn, pale and pure, lying on its side, silvery blood seeping from a dastardly wound in its side. A figure loomed over it, dressed all in black and donned with a silver mask that concealed their face. Their hand was on the side of the unicorn, and their wand was pressing into the wound hard.

Draco wasn't sure why the image came to him now, or why he still felt the same terror.

With a jolt, he saw that he'd reached the Potions classroom. Professor Snape was already inside. His dark, greasy head - Draco had always longed to give him some proper conditioner - was bent over the desk where he was reading a small note.

Snape had occasionally come to the Manor while Draco had been growing up, to discuss unknown things with Lucius. They had locked themselves away in his father's study and emerged, grim-faced, hours later. Draco had always known better than to ask what they had talked about.

Draco wondered what the note was, and why Snape looked so troubled. He didn't like the older man particularly, as he'd always scared him with his billowing robes and dark expressions, but he was curious. When he leaned a little further into the room, Snape abruptly pulled away and threw the note into the fire.

It went up in flames with a crackling sound.

"Mr Malfoy. A little eager, aren't we?"

Snape's voice was as cold as it always, drawling, and low. His dark eyes were trained on Draco's face as if he were a monster he needed to watch, only to kill it later.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I was just- not hungry." Was all Draco could thing to say. The sight of this terrifying man was enough to make him want to flee with his tail between his legs.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "While it is fascinating to hear of your eating habits," - the sarcasm was heavy- "I was wondering why you are here so early, not why you aren't at the hall."

Draco took an involuntary step backwards at the tone. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll come back later."

He moved to leave, his head bowed in a way his father would have a fit over- for Malfoys are never meek- but Snape spoke again.