September 1st had come earlier than Harry had truly been prepared for. This seemed odd since he had spent a record short period of time at Privet Drive and avoided the community at large other than one day, but it was what it was. Now it was time to think about school and all of the problems that went with it.

He had been annoyed to find out that he had to exit the Leaky Cauldron through the muggle side and take ordinary mass transportation to get there, but the journey had been smoother than he had expected and he had begun several letters that would need to be finished and sent once he finished things at school. These were shoved hastily in his trunk where he could find them later as he wheeled a loaded trolley through the train station, heading for the familiar magic platform.

He had left extremely early, so much so that he wasn’t sure the barrier would be open yet, as he decided he had a lot of business to think about and conduct on today’s train ride, before he was under the eye and hand of Dumbledore once again. He expected to be the first one here, therefore, and was completely shocked to find his arch nemesis of years past leaning against the barrier lazily, obviously waiting for it to magically open and declare to school year begun.

“Malfoy,” Harry sneered as he strode over to the blonde pile of whining. “Been here all summer? Maybe you can’t stand the thought of your big empty Manor now that Daddy has spent the whole summer rotting in prison.”

Harry knew that according to his own Manifesto he ought to give Malfoy a second chance, see if maybe he had grown up and was ready to see the right of things. If he was honest with himself, Harry doubted the teen in his way was fairing any better with Voldemort and the major Death Eaters than he felt he was with Dumbledore and the Order. On the other hand, he had decided with Ginny that some people had already proven themselves and would have to change his mind instead of starting over. Draco definitely fell into this group, even if it was in the opposite direction. It was only right that Harry landed the first verbal blow of the year and got things off to a solid start.

Draco Malfoy hated children. This was not to say he didn’t hate most everything and everyone, but he had a special place in his black heart for those under the age of thirteen. They disgusted him. They truly made him want to curse things, preferably the children themselves. The only thing he hated more than children was the atmosphere at his manor at the moment, which was why he lounged against the pillar that would eventually open to the Hogwarts Express, despite the crowds of families with screaming little ones.

If the blonde had to spend one more hour in that place with his piss-poor mother and his stupid cousin who he had to spend more and more time with recently, he thought he might turn his wand on himself and let out an ‘avada’ just to get it all to stop. Sure, he was a drama queen, but he was beyond stress. Meetings with the Dark Lord, getting turned into a girl, having to train with Silas… The boy couldn’t take much more!

It was no wonder that, when posed with the idea of spending more time traveling with the younger boy, Draco chose to sneak out of the manor and make his way to the train station on his own. His trunk and thinks leaned beside him while he cockily rested with his nose in the air, eyes nearly closed as he observed his surroundings. It was irritating that the stupid portal wouldn’t open for some time. That was what he got for being early. It was something to say that being around all these muggles was a better option than staying at home at the moment, though.

Draco sneered when a familiar head of black hair came into view. Of course, his day just had to get better. “The manor is far from empty, Potter,” came his retort, silver eyes flashing open in a glare of pure hatred. If looks could kill Harry would have been dead a hundred times over by now just from Draco alone. “Father might not be there, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of houseguests.” He lazily fingered his wand in the pocket of his robes. The boy never went out in less than his pristine black wizards robes, even if he was sure to get stares from the muggles. “Received any letters from your godfather this summer? Oh, wait…”

His lips curled in a cruel smirk as Draco laughed at the boy before him. “How does it feel to keep adding more and more to your list of dead loved ones anyway? Are there more dead than alive yet?” Draco was slowly putting himself in a rather wonderful mood. Pouring salt in people’s wounds tended to do that to the Slytherin.

It was far too early for this, and Malfoy had hit entirely too hard for Harry to properly process. Rather than going angry and cold and retorting immediately, Harry’s face fell a little at the mention of Sirius. He had been doing better lately, but if he had ever needed the advice of his godfather, it was this week. He really had no idea how he would make it through without Padfoot.

He was so distracted by his own dark thoughts, that not only did he not retort to the comment about Sirius, he actually started counting dead versus untrustworthy versus trusted adults in his life. If truth be told, the three lists were alarmingly similar lengths. Not that he could let Malfoy know that. He was so out of it and distracted, though, that the smirk filled silence was stretching out ominously. Harry considered cursing Malfoy in full view of all of these muggles just to win the confrontation.

“My list of loved ones has shrunk more than you know Malfoy, but you know what?” Harry said with a smirk of his own. “The idea of your father rotting in Azkaban is enough to make up for a lot of it, because I know that at least you’re miserable to.” Harry paused, taking a moment in mock consideration.

“I hope your Master leaves him there a good long while before he breaks him out,” he extended the look of mock consideration a bit deeper, “and then I hope he makes you watch as he punishes your dear, sweet father for his mistakes.” That was probably about three steps too far, but they were in public. What was Malfoy going to do other than glare and threaten? Harry would just have to be on his guard once they made it to school. Like he ever wasn’t.

Potter was talking, but Draco really didn’t care. He was just saying things about Lucius and Azkaban, which the blonde couldn’t really care less about. “Honestly, Potter, I agree with you. I hope the Dark Lord keeps my father in Azkaban until he learns not to get caught,” he hissed so the muggles couldn’t hear.

“It’s actually a bit sad that you’ve lost so much, Scarhead. If I had a soul, perhaps I’d feel bad for you.” He smirked, looking at the dark haired boy with a spark of cruelty in his gaze. It didn’t seem like the boy was fully into the verbal battle, however, and it was disappointing the blonde. He wanted to get some of his frustrations out on Potter, but what was there to even berate him about besides all the death and destruction in his life?

Well, he didn’t seem to have an entourage at the moment. Maybe that was a weak point. “So where are the mudblood and Weasel? Shouldn’t you be closely guarded or something?” It was true that Potter was usually accompanied by others when he went places. Wasn’t he the precious ‘Chosen One’ or something? Didn’t that mean he was so important that he couldn’t even take a piss without someone holding his hand? “Isn’t the old coot keeping you under his thumb anymore?”

Draco was actually quite curious about this. He wanted to know just what was going on with Dumbledore and the boy-who-refused-to-die. So many questions were swimming around his mind as Draco sneered at the boy before him. It was very annoying not to know what all was happening around him. It was obvious that things were changing, but Draco desperately wanted to know exactly what things were staying the same and what was going up in smoke.

His grey gaze strayed past Potter to focus on an awkward muggle man a bit further away from the pair. He looked quite angry, and was scaring most of the other people away from his vicinity. There was something familiar about him. Draco shook his head and looked back at Potter. He’d worry about the strange muggle when he was finished making the Chosen One cry.

Based on his soul comment, Harry was fairly certain that Draco had never had a real encounter with a Dementor before. No one who had been in the position he had found himself in twice in the last three years would make offhand remarks. "Maybe your father will join you in that if the Ministry still has a loyal Dementor or two," he muttered to himself.

Of course then Malfoy moved on to the fact that Harry was here alone. For someone who was both a whiny git and sometimes criminally unobservant, he had cut to the middle of Harry's situation remarkably quickly, and Harry didn't like it much. He also knew that nothing good could come from Malfoy knowing what was going on sooner than he absolutely had to from various rumor mills. Best case scenario involved him using his power as a Prefect and the lack of communication between Dumbledore and Harry to make the next nine or ten months a living hell. The worst case scenario involved Voldemort knowing too much, way too soon.

"Unlike some of us, I'm my own man, Malfoy," he spat out, trying to sound as if it was just a normal barb and he wasn't gripped with a special sense of panic. "I can go wherever I want, and I haven't needed someone to hold my hand in years." A confident smile started to grow on Harry's face. He thought he might win this round at least. "I even sleep without a nightlight like a big boy."

With that he shouldered past Malfoy roughly. He needed to find somewhere quieter and less annoying to wait for the barrier to open, apparently.

“What was that, Scarhead?” Draco hissed, but apparently the Gryffindor didn’t feel the need to answer him. Whatever. It wasn’t like he cared what the stupid git had to say anyway. He raised a brow at the boy calling himself all grown up. It seemed Potter didn’t even realize he was admitting to having needed his hand held and a nightlight in recent years. Draco held back a snort at the foolishness.

“Potter, you really are daft,” he drawled, gathering his trunk and things and looking again at the odd muggle man with a growing feeling of dread. He felt like there was something he was supposed to be doing. Some reason to go to the man and speak with him. Perhaps even bow before him. That was odd.

Draco shook his head, then ran a hand through his blonde locks. It seemed this little bout was over. “I definitely won that round, Potter!” he called after the black haired boy, a smirk curling on his lips. Perhaps they could make a proper game of it this year. It would at least keep one aspect of life a bit lighter. Somehow, the blonde figured both boys could use a bit of lightness in their lives.

Suddenly, it clicked. Dread filled Draco’s stomach as he again focused on the terrifying looking muggle. He wasn’t actually a muggle at all. The meeting. Draco was supposed to be over there. He had lost track of time while teasing Potter. The Dark Lord was waiting for him. And he had probably noticed Draco completely ignoring him to berate the boy he could pick on all year at school. This was really not good.