The New Trio
Summary: Harry gets re-Sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore is being an ass, frustration. Harry is best friends with Draco and Blaise, and hates Hermione and Ron. Half-gods, vampires, Snape, Yin and Yang and love (possible Slash).
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Previously in The New Trio:
And even if he didn't get to know what was the deal with the Potions Master he would surely be entertained, the slimy git was bound to have some interesting thoughts about the incompetent student he had to teach the beautiful art called Potions with its shimmering cauldrons and boiling fumes.
Harry Potter clapped his hands together with glee and left the Great Hall in the company of his new friends.
Chapter 11: Leather, whipped cream and strawberries.
A shopping trip to Hogsmeade was planned as Harry and Draco sat in the common room. It was Draco's opinion Harry really was in need of some new clothes if they still wanted to be seen together. Though Harry didn't see why it was such a big deal. Yet when he voiced this opinion he had to suffer through a five-minute lecture of how Draco refused to be seen within five feet of him if he was going to dress himself in his horrible hand-me-down Muggle clothes. It was not the proper clothing for Slytherins, or wizards at all.
When Draco started to turn a light purple in the face from trying to get his fashion points through Harry's thick skull, the dark-haired boy decided that a quick shopping trip couldn't kill him. Right?
Draco's huge grin didn't do anything for Harry's hopes for survival…. Could a shopping trip with the young Malfoy be lethal?
¤¤Get a grip Potter, of course it can't kill you.¤¤
Harry was dragged out of his horrible daydreams of being suffocated by multicoloured sleeves and squashed like a bug underneath tons of bags, when his possibly-lethal shopping companion set down his Butterbeer and focused his intense grey eyes on Harry, who choked back a whimper.
"What was up with you in Potions today, Harry? I'm not going to go all Granger on you, but you shouldn't allow yourself to fall too deep into dreamland while you're within sniffing-range of Snape."
"I was just thinking about Quidditch, you know, and marvellously creative ways to drown Snape in his own potions," Harry said casually as he sipped his own Butterbeer. They had just been down to the kitchen and snagged the last ten bottles along with cauldrons full of sweets. Getting to learn how to successfully access the kitchens without getting caught was the best thing that had happened to Harry while he was in the Lions' den.
Draco let it slide; he'd just wanted to give Harry a warning, he would rather go to hell, than turn into Mudblood #2.
"Speaking of Quidditch, what are you going to do about the places on the House Team? There aren't any vacant at the moment, though we could always remove some of the less gifted or important people to make space for you," the current Slytherin seeker said, trying to seem indifferent to his own endangered place in the team now that Harry was in Slytherin. And if Harry noticed his friend's stiffness and white knuckles around the bottle of Butterbeer he didn't point it out as he shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
"Oh, I don't know. I haven't played anything but seeker before, so I'll have to see if I'm any good at anything else, though the changes should be good. But who do you think needs to be thrown out of the team, Draco dearest? I have a couple of incompetent players in mind."
"Yeah, some of them really need to be recirculated!" Draco let go of the breath he had unconsciously been holding and relaxed once again; now sure that his beloved position as seeker was safe. He really didn't think he would be any good in another position. "You can take Mortery's spot as Beater, or Meenel's as Keeper."
Harry nodded his dark head. "Yeah, maybe. It's going to be great playing on a team where more than half the players are better than just decent. I always thought that Slytherin had the best team anyway, but since you didn't have me on your team… there really wasn't anything you could do. I'm just too brilliant!" Harry said, fetching a dramatic, deep sigh.
"Arrogant much?" Draco asked with a small smirk. "Though you are right: we were the best team and now we might just be unbeatable."
"Yes, I always did do all the work; the other idiots just flew around trying to look like they knew right from left, never mind about playing the game." Harry answered in a haughty tone.
"Yes, we should all bow down to the Great Harry Potter. Oh, do please let your greatness flow over my pitiful soul, Your Highness," Draco said with a fake bow that ended in a snort. They grinned at each other and made a toast to a great Quidditch year.
The hours before dinner the next day went quickly. Harry couldn't wait to get out of the castle and start the shopping trip. But they were just going to finish their dinner before they went. The reason they could just decide to take a shopping trip outside of school was because it was Harry and Draco's prize for winning the game show: a trip to Hogsmeade and one year free Butterbeer at The Leaky Cauldron. And they'd been given permission by Dumbledore to take a friend.
Harry, Draco and Blaise sat in the middle of the Snake table and talked. Harry was doing a great job keeping them entertained with stories from his time in the Red and Gold house. It had become something of a game for the other students to listen in on their conversations and try to figure out what they said. They also made their time fly by discussing Potter's behavior. After all, why would he suddenly act like he had been lifelong friends with the Slytherins? He hadn't been before, had he?
So while they talked, everyone was watching them and making unnecessary trips past their table in hopes of picking up some cheesy inside information. Ben Comingham, a third year Hufflepuff – a sweet boy….not that bright - just happened to walk by when he heard:
"Yeah, I remember that just fine, thank you very much. God, was I envious of you! Had you spoken to me right then I just might have chopped your pompous head off you… you little shit!" Draco said.
Potter had then just smiled sweetly and clapped Malfoy on the shoulder while he said: "Oh dear, did I hurt your feelings? We can't have that now, can we?"
Malfoy had then mock-punched Potter as he laughed at Draco, before joining Potter in laughing at the whole situation.
Unsurprisingly, it didn't take more than a few seconds before the whole Hufflepuff table knew the story, and a few well-placed disparagements and theories about the conversation between the two snakes had been voiced and written down. What were the two boys really talking about and why did Malfoy react the way he did?
The Badgers were not alone in having this as their favourite spare-time activity. The Lions were often to be found sitting around while they discussed how much Potter had changed – and not for the better.
Dean was sitting with Seamus as usual, who had his own favourite spare-time activity: rubbing his hands up and down Dean's inner thighs. The dark Gryffindor ignored it in favour of debating with himself whether he should or shouldn't tell his mates what he knew about Harry. It was so difficult to keep it to himself – the information just wanted to come out. Okay, he told himself, he would tell them, they were trustworthy. He just had to remember not to use Potter's name, since he would then have to call him 'Sir'.
He cleared his throat and wiggled a bit in his seat, but that was mostly because the Irish boy's hand had wandered a bit high for the last few strokes.
"I don't know if you know that I know, but I know that he has vampire friends outside of school, did you know that? I've heard they're a few years older than him, about 3-5 years or so, and he met them a few years back while he was still in Gryffindor. Can you believe that? I mean, they're very dangerous! I bet he would set them on people he didn't like. Just so you know you might just end up as vampire food if you mess with him."
Dean breathed out and smiled. Wow that felt good to get off his chest! Now, why had Seamus stopped his stroking when it was just starting to get good?
The faces of his classmates were either blank from shock or twisted in horror and anger. Everybody that had listened in on Dean's confession looked from him and over at the ex-Gryffindor in green robes.
"What? Why! Vampire friends, real vampires? How in Merlin's name did that worm get vampire friends, and while he was one of us? How could he possibly get in contact with foul creatures like them – they are evil and dark, just good-for-nothing animals. They live in Knockturn Alley, right, and that means that Potter must have gone there too. I always told you he was an evil backstabbing git!" Ronald Weasley sneered as he sent exasperated glares at his ex-best friend and saviour of the Wizarding world.
Fifteen strokes and two gropes later the latest news of Harry's taste in friends had reached both the blue and the yellow tables. But of course no one dared to tell the Slytherins – that was like begging for a thrashing - so they remained ignorant. But no one except some Gryffindors knew, or cared for that matter, who had come forward with the information to begin with.
As expected, everyone wanted to know if it was true, as well as lots of other questions like: Had he been on a hunt with them? Where did they live? In Knockturn Alley? Or perhaps in creepy and dangerous woods? Was Harry 'cool' with them killing people?
But the main question was why. Why on Earth had Harry Potter befriended dark creatures? One Hufflepuff-favoured theory was that Harry was a vampire himself.
Potter had changed so much since he became a Slytherin, the mask had come off. The Gryffindors missed him, though they would never admit it. You simply don't admit to missing a slimy Snake. The Lion house was so quiet nowadays; they rarely laughed anymore, and always looked awfully tired. Everything they knew and believed in had been turned upside down. Now it was the Slytherins heard laughing in the Great Hall and corridors, not the Gryffindors. The roles had been switched, the Snakes were cheerful and the Lions were moody. And Harry was the one who had fucked it all up.
Harry caught his breath again after a bout of convulsive laughter and let his eyes wander through the Great Hall. He soon noticed the heavy tension and everyone's eyes on him.
¤¤Well shit, not again…¤¤
He expected the worst, and didn't feel like being there when the bomb fell.
"Hey Draco, let's go. I think we need the time. A little bird told me you were just slightly difficult and fussy when it came to clothes."
Blaise stepped in before the blond could come up with a witty comeback. "Yeah, you bet he is. It took him one hour to find a shirt in just the right colour."
Harry let slip a small laugh and said to his friends while he finished his dinner: "Well then, I should be glad you're coming with us, Blaise, so you can keep me alive. I'm not that fond of shopping trips."
Draco snorted, not amused in the least. "Well then, if you two morons are quite finished, we might just get going, we need all the time we can get. We're going to have to buy an entire new wardrobe! And not for any normal student, but for a Slytherin student who just happens to be one of my good friends! And Blaise, you're coming. We need someone to carry all the bags and catch Harry when he tries to escape." Draco looked them over seriously, and took their nods as 'Yes master, we will do as you command'.
"Great, then let's go." Draco stood and left Blaise to drag Harry along; trying to convince him that shopping wasn't lethal. "Well it's not dangerous as long as you just nod at everything Draco says. He's gone into shopping mode; any contradictions from you will not be dealt with kindly."
Harry tried not to look back at all the curious looks that followed them as he and his friends left the hall. He had a suspicion that either Goodweil or Thomas had been really stupid and said something to their good-for-nothing friends. He sent both of them a glare that promised pain and closed the great doors. As the doors closed with a snap, Dean sat among his friends and suddenly felt really nervous. Had he just signed his own death warrant? That glare hadn't been too friendly…
The only reason Harry wasn't sitting on the floor moaning about his sore feet was because he was leaning on Blaise. Harry was worn out: they had been in the same store for an hour and Draco had only found two sweaters and one pair of trousers that were good enough for Harry to try on.
"For fuck's sake, Draco, just grab a pile of clothes and let Harry try them on. You don't know what clothes he suits, you just might be pleasantly surprised," Blaise complained as he shifted Harry so that he could stand on his own two feet. For some few seconds at least.
Draco turned slowly towards his two companions and gave the one who had come up with the insane suggestion a classic Malfoy glare, level two. "I didn't bring you along so that you could tell me what I can and can not do. You're here to carry the bags and keep Harry on his feet; do you think you can manage that?" Blaise made a face at Draco's back and shook his head. Harry just sent him a pitying smile.
After three more hours, Draco had managed to find seven pairs of trousers; eight sweaters; ten shirts; five regular robes; four dress robes, and three winter robes, as well as three summer cloaks; three autumn cloaks and two winter cloaks. Two of the cloaks were dress cloaks.
Harry groaned when he saw them, "Ahh, I'll never get out of here."
Draco picked up the clothes and placed them behind a curtain which was supposed to be the changing-room. "You'll try these clothes on in here and come out when you're dressed so that I can tell if they will do or not." Harry just nodded his head weakly and shuffled behind the black curtain.
Harry and Draco received many curious looks from the other customers. Some because Harry was suffocating under all the clothes Draco had found, but mainly because they were together. Not many outside of the school knew about Harry Potter's change of House. They had perhaps heard a rumour, but come on! Who was going to believe that The Boy Who Lived is a Slytherin?
Harry had tried on an eighth part of the pile of clothes and Draco was giving just a selected few his okay. Harry, on the other hand, thought they were all the same and didn't prefer one over the other. But when he was rash enough to say that to Draco, the shopaholic answered him with a short speech: "Harry, how many times must I tell you? Clothes are very important. They reflect a person's personality! You can't just wear anything that will cover your body!"
Harry was at that moment hiding behind a new pile of clothes, so as not to be in Draco's way while he was on the hunt for more. The shop owner was grinning from ear to ear, he was going to earn a pretty penny today. Draco had the habit of looking at the price tag – was it expensive enough? – and then at the garment itself – was it suitable? But the owner knew not to bother Draco while he was in shopping mode. This was the Malfoy heir's regular robe-shop; he liked it precisely because the owner knew to mind his own business, and not to speak to Draco unless he asked something of him.
"What do you think Draco, is this good?" Harry was wearing a bottle-green turtleneck and dark jeans.
Draco tilted his head to the side and studied Harry.
Oh, my oh my, looking good.
"Yeah, it'll do. Now try on the dark green autumn cloak over the top," Draco said and Blaise agreed.
Harry grinned, he was pleased that they were choosing some of the clothes he liked best, he had always liked earthy colours. He went behind the curtain again and tried on more clothes and posed in them for his friends. Some of the other shoppers were also enjoying the show, mostly girls of course. Harry really was a looker, and in these new clothes he looked like sex on legs. Half way through his 'show' he heard someone think some very suggestive thoughts about what they could do with Harry in leather trousers, with whipped cream and strawberries.
Blaise was bored. The three of them had been in the same shop for four hours and Harry had only tried on half of the clothes Draco was flinging at him. So Blaise thought it a good idea to have some fun with Harry. Besides, he could finally use that spell he'd picked up the other day.
"Transpacya" he whispered under his breath, while his hidden wand pointed at the changing-room. He watched with a growing grin as the curtain slowly turned more and more transparent. Now that is some handy transformation spell!
Draco was the last person to notice that the Boy Wonder was flashing himself because he was busy paying for some of the clothes. And he only noticed it then because he was trying to find out which annoying girls just wouldn't stop giggling. But when he did see what the many females were giggling over he had to grip the front desk to keep himself from falling. Girls of all ages pointed, blushed and drooled, while Blaise was laughing his arse off. No sound emerged though as he was holding his hand over his mouth.
The young Malfoy understood quickly what his dark-haired friend found so amusing. The only curtain covering the changing-room was now totally and utterly see-through. And at the moment Harry was standing with his back to his spectators trying to decide whether to try on the brown robe or the dark blue next. The newest Slytherin was only wearing black silk boxers, and he was a sight for the gods. He had a slim figure, but it was far from frail; he had a perfect waist and flat stomach, slender hips and muscular arms and shoulders. And to top it all he had a gorgeous taut little arse. But the best part was that it was all covered by silk-smooth, sun-kissed skin.
But the selected few who managed to tear their eyes away from his backside also noticed a tattoo that marked that sinfully smooth skin. The tattoo was sitting at the base of Harry's neck at the beginning of his back, just between his shoulders. It was a three inch wide black bat, with golden cat's-pupil-shaped eyes and two sharply pointed and bloody fangs. And by its feet 'Pureblood type 0' was written in a black gothic script.
It didn't take Draco long to come out of his lala-land and jump in front of his friend to cover him. Harry leapt into the air and looked at Draco funnily, he didn't even notice the lack of curtain or register the fact that he was exposing himself to the whole shop.
"What do you think you're doing Draco? Trying to feel me up?" Harry asked with a playful smirk.
"I'm trying to cover your bare arse, you idiot! You're exposing yourself for the whole world here. It looks like Blaise found something to do while he was waiting."
"What?" Harry turned to look over Draco's shoulder and squeaked in terror when he found he could see right through the curtain. His big, horrified eyes were met by giggling girls and a dark friend who stood in the background holding his stomach, suffering a massive fit of laughter.
"Oh, holy mother!" Harry jumped behind Draco and tried to make himself as small as possible by gluing himself to Draco's back. Harry blindly grabbed for a cloak and tossed it on. Then he stood up and strode toward Blaise with his wand raised dangerously. He hissed out a spell and the light blue spell-light hit Blaise but nothing seemed to happen. Blaise thought it was the most amusing thing he had witnessed in his life: the famous Harry bloody Potter had failed a curse! He started to laugh, but stopped right after when he noticed that no sound was coming out. Harry had made him mute! Oh, the nerve…
Harry sent him a cocky smile and went back to Draco and his now normal curtain.
"Thanks Draco, this is the last garment. Is it any good?" Harry asked as he pushed himself through the many people now laughing and giggling over Blaise's attempts at speech.
"Yeah, it is good, we'll take it. Great curse by the way, I'll bet it'll come in handy around Pansy sometimes," Draco said as he looked over at a fuming Blaise.
The three Slytherins paid for the last garment and finally left the shop. Blaise was obediently following Harry in hopes of Harry feeling generous and removing the curse.
Next on their agenda was getting Harry a new haircut. Then new shoes; boxers; socks; cosmetics like shampoo and gel, and other accessories. The hairdresser knew Draco well so they got lots of extra things into the bargain. Unsurprisingly, Harry didn't get to decide anything at the hairdresser's, either.
Though when he was allowed to get out of the chair, Harry wasn't complaining. He had lost all his brownish tones and was sporting pitch-black hair with some dark-blue and dark-green highlights. The hairdresser and Draco had agreed that Harry would look good with slightly longer hair, so they had poured in some vanilla and coconut shampoo – Draco's favourite odours – to make it grow. Afterwards it reached down to his shoulders, and then they cut it into the shape they wanted. The two – the hairdresser and Draco, Blaise still couldn't say much – also decided that they liked Harry's natural messy-hair look; it made him look tousled and playful. So they tossed on a lot of gel to make it stay that way and add a bit of height.
Now, it must be said that Harry was gripping the armrests of the chair pretty tightly in fear at the beginning of the pair's little project. But he found himself very pleased with the end result. The hairdresser also taught Harry a spell that would make his hair lie flat for once, and gave him a course on how to properly apply gel to his hair to get it to look like it was today.
The three went to find shoes for Harry and it looked like it would take even longer than it did to find the clothes. But after a long time and many arguments they decided to buy three pairs of black leather shoes: a pair with laces, a pair of boots with buckles and a pair of boots with buttons. They were all very handsome and Harry was very pleased with them.
Finally, the trio of super shoppers sat down at the Three Broomsticks to enjoy a couple of Butterbeers. Harry felt his whole body and soul was hurting, and the pain he was feeling in his feet… ¤¤Wait a minute, wait a minute…I can't FEEL my feet! I knew this trip would be the end of me, I just knew it. Shopping with a Malfoy is lethal. I will never walk again, I'm handicapped. Death by shopping…now that's something to put on the gravestone.¤¤
Though Harry did feel very sorry for himself, he wasn't the only one in pain. Blaise was the one who had to carry all the bags and Harry too at times. And he still hadn't got his voice back.
With Harry's not-too-bright mind for maths, he estimate that he had used 5,838 galleons. But it was all worth it, he had after all got a whole new wicked-cool wardrobe. The trio had decided that they would burn Harry's old clothes, as a kind of ceremony and celebration that Harry's time with the Gryffindors was over.
They sat around and relaxed at the bar until the clock struck 9.30 pm, then they wandered home. When they reached Hogwarts around 10 pm hardly anyone was about. They were all good students and were staying inside the common rooms.
Harry appreciated that fact, it meant that people wouldn't get to see his new self before tomorrow. Though he wasn't that lucky with the Slytherins, they were all in the common room waiting for the trio, in the room Harry would have to walk through. So when Harry, Draco and Blaise came through the portrait chatting (well, Blaise wasn't chatting, of course), they stopped in their tracks when they heard a loud gasp.
Everybody in the room turned to look at Harry Potter, the newest Slytherin member and resident Wonder Boy. He had changed so much in so little time, eight hours to be exact. He looked like an entirely different person than when he went out – he looked older. If they hadn't known that he'd been going on a makeover trip then they wouldn't have recognized him. Harry smiled at the shocked faces and dragged Draco and Blaise with him up to their dorm. From downstairs he heard "Wow" and "Oh my God!" as he walked along with a satisfied smirk on his face.
He still wore the goofy grin as he lay down to sleep some hours later in the traditional black silk boxers of Slytherin.
"Thanks a lot for today, Draco, I really owe you one. Good night".
As an answer he got the reply: "Yeah, you do. You're going to steal all my fans now, you little shit. Good night," from the dark room.
To be continued, promise!