I haven't uploaded a story in ages, not since I deleted all of mine from when I was eleven. Are disclaimers still things people do? I doubt it, but I remember how funny they used to be. Y'know, back in my day.
Narcissa sighed for a moment, looking around the entrance hall of the Malfoy Manor, waiting for her son, Draco, to finish dragging her husband out of the bathroom, where he was undoubtedly fixing his hair for the thousandth time. She didn't blame him, their status in Wizarding society was demanding, and so they must look utterly perfect whenever in the public eye. Also, Lucius enjoyed looking nice, they all did, as it was quite the confidence boost.
"Sorry about that."
Narcissa just smiled as her son and husband came down the stairs, Draco clearly trying to contain his excitement. Lucius kissed his wife before the two linked arms, Draco taking his mother's free hand, looking around at the Manor for the last time in a while, holding onto his trunk.
"I suppose we're ready, then?"
Narcissa nodded, and as one unit, the three Malfoys turned on their heel, and with naught but a soft pop!, they were gone.
Harry Potter was having an awful time, he really was. He was sat on his trunk, in staring at the wall between Platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross Station, trying to will another platform into place. He huffed, trying to remember what it was that Hagrid had called his relatives...Muggles. Harry growled, standing up, pulling his trunk up onto a trolley and dragging it back a few feet to angrily stare at the wall from another angle, growling under his breath.
It felt good to blame someone else, even if Harry knew that it wasn't his aunt and uncle's fault that he didn't know how to get onto Platform 9 3/4. Hagrid's, maybe. After all, the gargantuan man surely could have at least given Harry some hint as to how to make it onto the train.
Unless he was an absolute idiot, Harry mused.
As soon as the thought made its way into Harry's brain, he immediately felt bad. After all, he had brought Harry a birthday cake, and he had been nothing but kind. Even if he had somehow managed to forget an absolutely crucial bit of information to Harry.
As Harry contemplated moving to yet another angle to glare at the brick wall, a finger tapped on his shoulder. He jumped, suddenly realising that he must be in someone's way.
"Are you alright?"
Harry whirled around, staring up at the woman before him in surprise. She was looking at him in distinct amusement, an eyebrow arched at him. Harry suddenly felt tiny in her presence, every inch of her clearly demanding respect. His thoughts whirled back to the boy he had met in Madame Malkin's, and his eyes widened in recognition, a sigh of relief leaving him.
"Oh, thank heavens, you're a witch. Can you help me?"
Her expression changed slightly, and she looked at her son, who was indeed the boy Harry had met, standing beside a man whom he bore a striking resemblance to.
"Draco, why don't you explain?"
The blond boy stepped forwards, pausing slightly.
"What's your name?"
Harry blinked at the oddly direct question before brushing it off. He'd answer anything to get their help at this point.
"Harry Potter. I didn't get yours at Diagon Alley?"
"Draco Malfoy. These are my parents, Lucius, and Narcissa. You...don't know how to get onto the platform?"
Harry politely nodded at Draco's parents, who offered him small smiles before he answered Draco's question.
"No, I don't. I...Muggles. Not much help teaching me about anything."
The more Harry thought about how little he really knew about the world he was about to enter, the angrier he got, until he was gripping onto his trolley so tight that his knuckles were white.
"They didn't even tell me how my parents died, they told me nothing. I know absolutely nothing."
He didn't notice Narcissa shoot a look at her husband, but Draco just stepped forwards, tugging along his own trolley.
"Well, it's quite simple, you just walk through that wall. The platform is on the other side."
Harry stared at the wall despairingly, not knowing how he didn't try even touching the wall once.
Draco nodded affirmingly. "That's it."
Harry huffed, grumbling as he stared at the wall.
"Of course. The one thing I don't try. Apart from dynamite, that is."
The Malfoys ignored his mumbling, Lucius placing his hand on Draco's shoulder as they began walking towards the barrier. Narcissa rested her hand on Harry's back, and Harry's cheeks burned at how oddly comforting he found it, entertaining the fantasy that it was his own mother sending him off for only a brief second.
"You might want to close your eyes," she murmured, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, opening them as new noise assaulted his ears. He did his best not to gawk as they joined with Lucius and Draco, who were clearly waiting for the woman of the family.
Harry nodded, trying to lift his heavy trunk to load it onto the train.
Draco hopped up onto the carriage gracefully, grabbing the end of Harry's trunk, pulling as Harry pushed.
"There you go."
He got down, and they switched places to get Draco's trunk onto the train, Draco hugging his parents and promising to write before he got on board, looking at Harry.
"You'd do best to stick with me, I suppose. You say you're clueless, I'm not. I can help."
Harry let out a slow breath, not an idiot by any means. "Sounds like my best option, yeah. So, where are we sitting?"
Draco was already moving, and Harry took larger steps to catch up.
"I should have some friends up this way...yes. In here. Now," Draco whirled around, almost causing Harry to collide with him as he abruptly stopped in front of a compartment. "I'm guessing that you'd rather stay out of the public eye as much as possible. Do not show your scar, and don't give your last name unless someone gives you theirs first. In example, if I simply introduced myself as Draco, you'd give me Harry. If I said Draco Malfoy, you'd give me your last name. Got it?"
Harry nodded, remembering the ruckus that occurred back at The Leaky Cauldron. Draco smiled slightly, opening a compartment door and dragging Harry along in by his shirt sleeve, closing the door almost immediately.
"Right, change out of those dreadful clothes before I introduce you to anyone, for Merlin's sake. It's almost embarrassing."
Harry snorted, turning away from Draco, pulling out his school robes, happily changing.
"You're one to complain, they're my clothes."
"If you could even call them clothes, what are they, clothes for elephants, maybe?"
Harry laughed, and Draco moved forwards to adjust his tie. Or, rather, redo it, as Harry had completely mucked it up. As soon as Draco had unceremoniously dumped Harry's clothes out of the window, into a conveniently placed trashcan, they moved up a few compartments, where a few others their age were. Harry noticed that they all gave off the same...vibe that Draco did.
"Right, Harry, this is Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, and Theodore Nott."
Harry waved somewhat awkwardly, as being stuck in a cupboard under some stairs for most of his life didn't exactly give him a chance to cultivate his social skills.
He was given some smiles, and nods from others, and they all scooted over to allow him and Draco space.
"Out of curiosity, are you Harry..."
Harry nodded, settling back into his seat after putting his trunk away.
"Potter, yeah. Unfortunately, I know next to nothing about everything because I was left with Muggles."
Everyone in the compartment became visibly disgusted, and Harry found himself suddenly swamped with questions about how he ended up there, and how they treated them, and if he wanted to leave them. He simply closed his eyes, sighing.
"I have no clue how I ended up there, they hate me, absolutely hate me, and I want nothing more than to leave. I didn't even know anything about magic until a month ago. I thought I was some sort of freak."
He jumped as a book was dumped onto his lap, followed by more books.
Pansy plopped a sixth book onto his lap, folding her hands in her lap.
"We can't have the Potter heir knowing nothing about the Wizarding World, that's almost blasphemy. Blaise?"
Blaise hopped off of his seat, handing Pansy a thick book.
"Might put him to sleep."
Harry examined the cover, sighing.
"They're important, Potter. If you want to prove yourself, you've got to know your stuff."
He nodded, quite liking the sound of that.
"Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. I need to actually do things so I'm not just a name. Thanks. I'll read these and give them back."
As he stowed the books into his trunk, the compartment shifted from talking about Harry's home life and the best way to educate him to different topics, such as Quidditch, which Draco explained to Harry as the latest match was discussed. Crabbe helpfully handed over a magazine entirely on the sport, and Harry looked through it, quite interested. It wasn't until there was a knock on the compartment door that he was jolted out of his reading. Goyle opened the door, and a girl with bushy hair stepped in, looking around at the crowd inside, a chubby, short, blond boy, who was clearly mid emotional breakdown standing somewhat behind her.
"Have any of you seen a toad? Neville here's lost his."
Draco sighed, clearly annoyed that his explanation of just why the Magpies were the best Quidditch team was interrupted.
"No, as we've been in here the entire ride. Besides, the only thing a toad is useful for is potion ingredients, so if I see it, I'm more likely to cut it up than to hand it over."
Harry hid his mouth behind the magazine to try and hide his laugh, clearing his throat as the girl looked at him, shooting him a glare before she turned around and stomped off, dragging the boy along with her to badger another compartment about his missing toad. Draco rolled his eyes, sighing.
"Where was I? Oh, yes..."