Draco finished in the shower, dressed, tidied his hair, and went out the common room feeling a little more in control of himself. Harry was still sitting on the couch, reading the Daily Prophet—it must have been yesterday's edition, because this morning's would arrive at breakfast. Draco ducked into his bedroom to deposit his bathroom supplies, grabbed his bag, stuffed his feet into shoes, and went back out to the common room, where, feeling very brave, he sat down right on the couch next to Harry.

Their thighs were touching somewhat.

"Want to go down to breakfast, Harry?" Draco asked. Then he realized that Harry would, of course, usually go down with his two best friends. "Or were you going to wait for"—He concentrated—"Ron and Hermione?"

((No worries! I'll look forward to starting up again when you're back.))

----

Draco nodded as Harry spoke. "You know your friends best," he said.

He hoped that Harry hadn't fought with Ron overnight. All the Gryffindor boys in that year would be stuck in the one dormitory, which Draco actually hadn't seen yet. It would probably be a round room, he thought, but how were things arranged? Did each boy have any privacy? In the Slytherin dorms, he'd had no privacy whatsover—it was a big, square room with the beds lined against the walls one after another, with desks in between.

Thinking of his old dorm room made him stumble a bit in middle of getting up. He'd have to face his house tonight. They'd know he'd been moved away; they'd know he hadn't accepted the invitation, that he had betrayed them. He felt lightheaded and knew he'd probably gone even paler than usual. He finished straightening up and squared his shoulders. He was a Gryffindor now, whatever that meant, and he had a staunch ally in Harry Potter.

"Time to face the music," he said, and offered his hand out to Harry, who was still sitting on the sofa.

Draco felt a little stab of sadness when Harry's hand left his, but that was, after all, the way things usually worked. They crossed the common room together, went out through the portrait hole—Draco assumed he'd get better at clambering in and out of that thing—and entered the corridor.

Since it was just himself and Harry, he decided to take advantage of their aloneness to explain some things.

"I'm actually pretty worried about my ex-House," he said, and went on before Harry could say anything more: "I mean, obviously I've just betrayed them, and they'll be wanting revenge. But," he went on hurriedly, "I think, honestly, you're more at risk than I am. All of the students over seventeen will have been initiated, and my father taught me the Killing Curse last summer, when I was only fourteen—so probably the fifth through seventh years are all capable of just doing away with you if they get a chance.

"Fortunately," he went on, again before Harry could get a word in edgewise, his voice bouncing around a bit as they clattered down some stairs, "You-Know-Who wants to kill you himself, which you probably already know. But that doesn't prevent the students from harming you and gaining favor with the Death Eaters."

Draco's rapid-fire speech finally slowed, and he asked, "Why does You-Know-Who want to kill you, anyway?"

Draco nodded when Harry admitted seeing his father in the graveyard the night You-Know-Who had been revived. "Yes," he murmured, "My father told me what happened. He... bragged about it." Draco shuddered at the memory. That had been the moment, sitting around the dinner table his first night home, when he'd realized how horrid his father was.

"My point," Draco said, mentally fumbling a little, "is that I'll be watching your back, too." He could feel himself flushing. "I would—I'd hate for anything to happen... to you..." He trailed off, wondering what the hell his mouth was saying.

Draco felt a grin spreading across his face. "Well, I suppose we both think the other is more worth protecting than ourselves. What are friends for, eh?"

He considered Harry's earlier words about Lucius. Draco made a mental note to try to think of his father as Lucius, rather than Father. It didn't seem that hard, he realized sadly. "Well, he did mention that the Dark—that You-Know-Who hadn't been pleased with his followers, and that that snivelling rat-like fellow, the one they call Wormtail, had gotten a big silver hand as a reward." Draco shuddered. He was really glad not to be joining them.

[imgleft]http://www.hp-lexicon.org/images/maps/hogwarts-ground-map.jpg[/imgleft]Draco nodded, and was relieved to fall silent. The two of them walked companionably down to the Great Hall. The entire way down, Draco wanted to grab Harry's hand, which he could feel swinging gently beside his own. Such a short distance... why was it so hard to reach out and simply take it? When he'd been younger, holding hands, with either a girl or a boy, hadn't been a problem. Now, as a teenager, it felt impossible and awkward.

His thoughts brought him back to Dumbledore, and wanting to talk to him about being a gay wizard. What kind of future would he face -- if he had a future at all?

As they approached the wide open doors to the Great Hall, Draco could see that they were very early indeed; only a handful of Ravenclaws were there already, books open to the day's work, absently eating or drinking while studying. The Slytherin table, which was the one closest to the door, was fortunately completely empty. Feeling unusual, but in a good way, Draco walked with Harry straight past the table, past the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, all the way over to the Gryffindor table, which was also still empty.

Well. He was here, at last. This morning his new allegiance would be publicly proclaimed.

His heart began to beat faster, and he started thinking that maybe he should have tried to squirm his way out of things, rather than make a big public switch of sides like this... but then he remembered all the reasons for his switch, and the horrible feelings he'd had the previous day, trying to hide his nerves over the letter.... No. This was was the only way.

And besides, Draco thought, sitting down at his new House table, he'd get to be near Harry all the time now.

----------

((I got the picture from the HP Lexicon -- do you know the website? It's GREAT.))

((Sorry I missed yesterday -- I had to drive up to San Francisco and wound up getting caught in horrible traffic snarls... and then we spent several hours more than I expected at the hospital with my father-in-law, who is dying... again... Anyway. Yesterday was horrible, and tonight I get to move all our furniture out from the walls to prepare for the pest spraying people coming tomorrow. And we have to empty every single cabinet, drawer, and cupboard. *sighs* Tomorrow night I'll be back to normal, but you'll be gone, won't you? Erk. We'll catch up soon.))

---

Draco sat, still feeling his heart pound. All six eyes -- of the three Ravenclaws in the hall -- were on him and Harry. Draco wanted to shout, "YES, IT'S TRUE!" at the top of his voice, but didn't. That would be a bit much, for right now. It would probably be best not to call attention to himself more than his white-blond hair next to Harry's black already did.

"Where do you usually sit?" he asked.

((I don't know -- he's been transferred to a fancier hospital, but I don't know why. My mother-in-law is really awful about getting information to us.))

---

Draco found himself replying, "No—I think it better if the first encounter is here, in a big public place with lots of witnesses." He looked around the Great Hall as he sat down. It was a completely different view from this side—he could see not only all the other tables and the high table, as he had been able to from the Slytherin side, but could also keep an eye on the door.

Some more Ravenclaws wandered in. They weren't as distracted as the ones already seated, and when they saw Harry and Draco, stopped in their tracks, staring. Draco recognized fellow fifth-years Padma Patil and Terry Boot—the Slytherins had Herbology with the Ravenclaws. Draco, now that he was sitting down, felt confident enough to meet their startled gazes with a blank look, as if to say, What, I've always sat here.

He poured himself some tea and started in on a pile of scrambled eggs.

"So," he said, as he was thinking about Herbology with the Ravenclaws, "what's our schedule today? I don't know what classes you—I mean we Gryffindors have."

"No," Draco replied, "McGonagall didn't give me a schedule. Is there any homework I ought to be ready to turn in? It would be a bad showing for my first day in my new House to show up to lessons with no work done."

At that point, the first Slytherins walked in. Draco held his breath—it was Pansy Parkinson and Ted Nott.

Pansy's face was a study, and Draco almost laughed. Her face went from adoring (when looking at Nott), to surprised, to shocked, disbelieving, angry, and then settled on a priceless expression of jealous rage.

"Draco!" she almost shrieked, and launched herself across the hall at him. He saw her pull her wand out of her pocket, and grabbed for his own, but he wasn't fast enough.

Pansy's jinx hit him square in the face. He could feel his tongue curling back in his mouth, trying to gag him. He choked and sputtered, unable to breathe. Draco flailed for his own wand, but didn't have enough muscle control to do much more than make his plate of eggs crash to the ground. He tried to choke out Harry's name, but couldn't.

Draco gasped for air as Harry's countercurse took effect. "Thanks," he rasped, as he angrily pulled out his own wand. "Petrificus Totalus!" he snarled, flinging the curse at Pansy.

He heard Pansy fall to the ground with a satisfying clunk just as McGonagall and Snape both arrived.

"Draco!" Snape exclaimed. Draco thought he was trying to use a cool anger to cover up shock and dismay. "Twenty points from Slyth—" He caught himself. "Five points from Gryffindor for dueling, Malfoy," he said in a tight voice.

"But you saw Pansy!" Draco retorted. "She tried to kill me!"

"I saw no such thing," said Snape, and Draco realized that he was going to act as though Draco was through and through a Gryffindor, with the same haughty bias, taking points for no reason. "I saw you cast Petrificus on Miss Parkinson. Yes, Nott," he said, as Ted stepped forward tentatively, "I suggest you levitate Miss Parkinson up to Madam Pomfrey. She may need a sedative."

McGonagall stepped in at this point. "Mr. Malfoy," she said, in a similarly tight voice, "kindly explain what on earth just happened."

"Pansy saw me at the Gryffindor table and cast a Throat-Blocking jinx," Draco said, massaging his still sore throat. "If Harry hadn't known the countercurse, I could have died."

By this time quite a crowd had formed around the action, and more Slytherins had come in, watching as Nott cautiously Levitated Pansy out towards the Great Hall. Draco heard murmurs and whispers: "Malfoy's a Gryffindor now?" "What's going on?" "Why would he switch sides?"

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, and turned to Harry. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for quick thinking, Potter."

Draco shot Harry a rueful look. "I didn't want to be the center of attention," he said sadly. "And I really don't want to be killed." He sat back down and tried to rescue his eggs from the floor, but they were too far gone, and he was too upset, for magic to work. He took a clean plate and served himself again.

"Rough day it will be," he replied, as quietly as Harry had spoken. By this time, the spectators had been shooed off to their tables, and some Gryffindors had arrived, looking curiously—but not angrily, he thought—over at Draco and Harry. "Do you think," he asked slowly, surreptitiously looking at his Housemates, "that the other Gryffindors will be willing to come to my aid the way you did?"

"I think family ties are going to be very heavily tested today," Draco replied, but he sighed in relief and managed to eat some of his eggs. He'd probably need his strength as the day wore on, judging by the glares, glowers, whispers, pointings, and other general gossip that was clearly going on at the other House tables about his new placement.

McGonagall eventually came by and handed Draco a new schedule, and when Dumbledore finally appeared at the High Table, he gave Draco a significant look, obviously having been told everything by Professor Snape. Draco wondered when he'd get the Invisibility Cloak.

He sat, sipping tea, as the breakfast hour wound on. His mind felt blank, but also tensely wound, and he eventually realized why that was: he was a hunted animal, part of a pack (the Gryffindors) that was constantly in the presence of its predators (the Slytherins). The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were mostly "forest" in that metaphor, but he knew some of them were also young Death Eaters. He examined faces along those tables, wondering if he'd know them when he saw them. He didn't. They all looked too... normal. Completely incapable of the horrible acts he knew Death Eaters were ordered to carry out.

"Okay?" Draco heard his voice crack an octave higher than usual. He took another sip of tea and cleared his throat. He could hear the hysterical note in his voice when he then said, "No, of course I'm not going to be okay. I'll be lucky to get through the day alive."

Harry looked really concerned. Draco flung an arm around him, too stressed out to care what others thought. "Want to walk around the lake with me before classes start? I think we have twenty minutes. Unless it's Divination next, then we should probably start now. Sorry, I'm babbling. I'm suddenly really nervous," he admitted. "I think it's just hit me, what exactly this means. Still, being in Gryffindor and openly declaring my allegiance is probably somewhat easier than trying to fake my way through Death Eaterdom."

He forced himself to stop babbling, to allow Harry to speak.