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 pleased 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 redhead. It wasn't hard for the blond to quickly recognize the third year as none other 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 sent." 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 at 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, 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 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.

"First year, Slytherins!" A loud voice called, bringing the young Malfoy from his mind.

Smoothly, he stood up with his year and they moved to a familiar Perfect that the heir didn't know the name of. They swiftly went down to the dungeons, where there was a surprise waiting for them in the form of the Weasley twins.

"Gred, Forge." The Perfect's Pureblood mask fell as they gave the two an amused look. "Here looking to cause trouble?" The usually hissed words were filled with that amusement, genuine curiosity sounding through.

The clone siblings looked at each other in perfect sync, sly grins pulling at their lips. They then straightened themselves in a way only Purebloods knew how. A way one would think the Weasleys had forgotten.

"Why," they exclaimed together, "yes we are." They hummed almost happily.

The first year Slytherins shifted, confused whispers breaking amongst them. Even the perfect Heir Malfoy held a confused look. It was already hard to swallow that a *Weasle*y was a Slytherin, but now having both of the twins down in the dungeons? And almost be welcomed too?

"What are they doing in the Snakes Lair?" Draco easily pushed his way forward, the people naturally parting for him.

The twins looked at him with curious eyes, noting how his voice was kind and soft, even if a little dull. George remembered the boy speaking like that when he and Harry were friends and out at formal events. And those grey eyes weren't like they were when they were in school. There was no arrogance or childishness to them, only that similar grandfatherly look and confusion.

The twins grinned at the young Malfoy, them giving him happy bows. Not mocking bows, genuine bows. With that look, what else could they truly do?

"Hello, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy." They hummed, standing back up. "It is an honour to see a great friend of Harry's!" Their giggles were only met with confusion.

The two of them had just met! How could one consider either of them "great friends"! Draco's the son of a Deatheater for crying out loud! It would make more sense that Harry hated him!

"Harry talked about you." The green twin started as if hearing the blond's tumbling thoughts.

"Yes, he's said something about liking blonds?" The red twin continued.

"Yes, he did! Smart and cunning blonds!"

"Yes, yes! He may be a Lion, but isn't he more of a 'Puff?"

"Maybe, but Nevi's definitely a 'Puff."

The twins nodded at that, soon speaking in what Draco recognized as German. He wasn't fluent in it, but he could grasp that they were talking about someone and how pretty they would look in yellow. He was sure it was the Longbottom Heir if what they said before was to go by.

Yet, none of this had happened before. It was so rare that his dreams were wrong. So rare that his visions didn't come true! He knew that! And the fact that his dreams were so wrong made him nervous. What else were they wrong about?

"Oh, it looks like we made him confused, Gred."

"I do believe you're right, Forge."

The twins lightly laughed at that before looking to the Perfect, who shook his head at the third years. The Perfect Slytherin then stood in front of the twins, eyeing them carefully. Who knows what stunt they'd pull with his back turned.

"The Weasley twins happen to be identical, as you can see, and because they share everything, it's impossible to tell who is who. Because of this, they both are welcomed to the Snakes' Lair and the Lions' Den. Do be careful, they are as tricky as any fox or snake there is."

The twins gave innocent looks, pouting a little at the implied badness of their nature. They quickly dropped the act with smiles as the Perfect only gave them a slightly less amused look. The two then shrugged before skipping away, whispering their password to a flat wall before hopping in when it opened. The Perfect only shook their head before turning to the group of First years, quickly letting them know of the password and guiding them in.

It was there that everything was the same once more. The same dramatic entrance from their Head House, Severus Snape, and the same speech about how the stigma around the House would hurt them, how they should show a united front no matter what, to never go anywhere alone; everything was the same as in the dream once more. Draco oddly hated it. This left so many questions for him to answer. Both of which he wasn't sure about.

"Harry didn't reject you." Theodore whispered, a perplexed look on his face.

He had been friends with Draco for a few years, the boy having sought out him and his family, along with a few others. The children had wondered why, till Draco told them of his visions. They saw them come true over and over again. To have one not come true like it did... It felt odd, but welcoming. No, they weren't annoyed by his predictions, but he had told them the rejection with such a sorrowful look that... That if they were honest, they had hoped for it to be wrong!

"I know... A-And the twins... They're... They're supposed to be Gryffindor... Both of them." The Heir whispered.

The four other boys in the room looked at each other before nodding slowly. Something wasn't right, they knew that, but it felt right. Like something was clicking into place.

"Don't worry about it. Things will go back to normal." Blaise hummed, trying to calm the other down.

The blond nodded, giving them all one of his grandfatherly smiles. It was an odd smile to see on such a young face, but it was calming and genuine, so they accepted it. The Heir soon realized the time. He gently raised an eyebrow at the dark-skinned wizard, who only smiled in return.

"You should get some sleep." He hummed, getting a small laugh and smile from the Zabini.

"Of course." He agreed, hurrying off to his assigned room and letting Crabbe have his bed.

The four of them easily changed and got ready for bed, settling in quickly. With quick goodnights, the room was bathed in total darkness. In that darkness, Draco felt a familiar warmth as he could sense the spells and wards that made Hogwarts so safe. He gently placed a hand on the wall, almost feeling the magic thrum underneath it. Oddly, his mind drifted off to a dream he had about a familiar feeling.

*Flashback*

Harry and Draco were on a couch, watching something from the Tele in his American apartment. They were pressed closer than normal, but the two blamed it on the broken heater. They could've easily fixed it with magic or just pulled out more blankets, but they didn't want to. They had wanted to be pressed against each other.

It was only halfway through the show that the blond noticed something was poking at his magic. It was a bit unnerving, so he pushed his magic out to feel what was poking it. Carefully, his magic and whoever else's began to mix and twist about in a wonderful dance. The Lord had closed his eyes to truly feel the wonders, his body becoming racked with shivers of undoubtable pleasure. Then the magic pulled away with a familiar chuckle.

Opening his grey eyes, he was greeted by those teasing green ones. Without a word from the saviour, he placed his hand on the Lord's cheek. For a moment Draco was confused before his eyes widened as the familiar pulsing bit of magic that had enflamed his own.

"Yeah, my magic's been doing that." Potter hummed, attempting to pull his hand down.

"It's enjoyable." Malfoy said quickly, his own hand keeping the foreign one there.

The two stared at each other, once again their magic being pushed out and intertwining together. The way their opposing magic mixed was so beautiful and the feeling had left them both breathless. The Malfoy Lord pressed his head to the person making his magic act in such a brass and crazed way. Only the Potter Lord could ever make him like this, only him.

Then, they suddenly pulled apart, sitting at the opposite ends of the sofa, their eyes drawn back to the mindless show from before. It had seemed they were right to do this as Guinevere had burst forth through the door, a scowl marring her simple features. Draco narrowed his eyes at her but had kept his Pureblood mask on. He didn't want to upset Harry by sneering at his wife. This curtsy wasn't returned.

"What in Dumbledore's name is he doing here!" She had screeched, using that same new phrase. It was something that many of the Lights were trying to get on, seeing as Dumbledore was the second Merlin.

Harry frowned, a saddened look in his eyes as he properly sat up.

"He's a friend, Ginny."

"Ron's a friend. He's a filthy Deatheater." Her venomous words had hurt Draco, but he showed none of the pain.

Suddenly, the black-haired Lord stood up, his magic crackling in the room as a scowl formed perfectly on his innocent face. Draco would never say it aloud in this life, but Harry always looked handsome when he was about to tell someone off, even him. Especially him.

"You know he had no choice in that! And Ron-Ron can burn for all I care! Let me spend time with Draco, another Lord*\, for Merlin's sake." He hissed\, standing tall.*

The youngest Weasley flinched at his tone before rushing off, likely to write to her dying mother about what happened. The blond has heard all about that. It was such an annoying display of Mother and daughter love. Unhealthy at that.

The Potter then looked at him with a sad look and bowed his head. It was such a guilty look and the Malfoy already knew what had gone through the other's mind. There was a stinging pain in his heart before he stood up. He was going to apparate when he felt that pulsing magic collide with his skin in a sorrowful way. He couldn't stop himself from returning it, nor the tears that dripped onto the smaller male's shoulders. Neither said anything once they separated, Draco finally apparating away.

*Flashback- End*

Draco blinked his eyes, moving his hand from the castle wall to wipe the tears away. The pain in his heart was still there, every time he thought of those dreams. They were always so sad. They always ended with them separating, always on opposing sides. He hated it. He hated how it made him feel the most.

The young-looking Heir turned onto his side, squeezing his eyes closed and for once wishing that no dreams came to him. If nothing was going to fit, then he didn't want to know at all.

~2,602

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