"I'm not risking that."
                              
Pansy leaned forward. "Why didn't you find us?"
                              
Draco felt cornered. They wanted to know the same thing Longbottom wanted to know. "I didn't feel like it."
                              
"More like you're ashamed," Greg huffed. "You and your mum really did save Potter, didn't you? You're the reason that we lost the war!"
                              
Draco didn't have the heart to refute it. They were obviously here to confront him about it.
                              
"It's true then?" Theo said.
                              
"It has to be, cause you aren't denying it!" Pansy hissed.
                              
"There's nothing to deny," he replied softly. He didn't care about being outnumbered and defenseless. He was a leader and he wouldn't bow to anyone again.
                              
"You betrayed the Dark Lord!" Greg spat.
                              
"I guess I did. He was a madman, Greg."
                              
"Don't you talk about the Dark Lord like that!" Pansy shrieked.
                              
"Why not? He's dead. Thank Merlin and Morgana for that."
                              
"Our parents are in Azkaban, Draco!" Theo stated.
                              
"That was their decision. They choose to follow him," Draco said, quietly.
                              
"You're marked, too, Draco! You pledged your undying loyalty!" Greg hissed.
                              
"A pledge I gave at wandpoint and never wanted to take. He was a fucking lunatic!"
                              
Greg stood up and grabbed him. He pulled up him shoved him against the window and hit him hard in the gut a few times. "Shut up! You are going to pay for your betrayal!"
                              
The door slid open, again. "I think it's too crowded in here. I suggest you all find a different compartment," said the cool, calm voice of the Savior. "Let him go."
                              
Greg did and faced Potter. "This doesn't concern you, Potter. This is Slytherin business."
                              
"It's my business, now. Consider me the helpful constable. Get out, before I make you."
                              
"You're outnumbered, Potter," Pansy sneered.
                              
"I don't think I am. I'm usually surprised Goyle can dress himself, much less knows what end of his wand to use. Your wandwork was never practically impressive, Parkinson," Potter shot off without missing a heartbeat. "Zabini here stayed out of the war. I doubt he's interested in your bullshit now, so that leaves Nott to do the fighting for you. I'm pretty sure he's not as powerful as Voldemort."
                              
Draco winced again and sat down, shaking.
                              
Greg and Pansy hissed, and she shrieked, "How dare you!"
                              
"If there's anyone who can say his name, it's probably the guy that killed him. He's dead, you insipid bitch. Scram. I have better things to do than waste words on blowhards."
                              
"Shut up! You will-"
                              
Potter pulled out his wand. "One more word out of you, and it'll be a week before you can talk, again."
                              
Pansy sucked in a breath and brushed up on Potter on the way out. Greg forcefully pushed Potter out of the door. Theo followed, smirking a bit, but Blaise looked back at him, apologetically, before leaving, too. Potter came in and closed the door.
                              
"Troubles with your house, Malfoy?"
                              
"It's not your concern. I can handle them."
                              
"Yeah, handle. You were handling them quite well. You enjoy being used as a punching bag?"
                              
Draco grimaced. "It's none of your concern, Potter."
                              
"I don't let anyone hurt other people and do nothing."
                              
"My hero."
                              
Potter chuckled. "Neville said that you weren't being an asshole for once."
                              
"There's not really a point anymore."
                              
"I didn't realize that it was necessary to be one to begin with, but I'm not a bully... so... maybe there is a reason."
                              
Draco glared at him. "Yes, we all know that you're Saint Pottah, and the rest of us lowly mortals should grovel at your magnanimous feet."
                              
Potter laughed. "I don't need groveling, just less hexes and vitriol."
                              
"I didn't realize you knew words that complex," Draco muttered.
                              
"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said, with a laugh.
                              
Draco smiled, too. It was easy to banter with Potter. "Are you sure that you want to be seen in my company? Wouldn't want you to tarnish your golden boy rep and all."
                              
"I don't give a flying broomstick what people think of me, Malfoy. Never had, and quite frankly, I've been mobbed by half the train for my autograph and a photo. At least I don't have to worry about you doing that."
                              
Draco quirked an eyebrow. "I already have your autograph."
                              
Potter looked at him confused.
                              
"Thank you for sending my wand back," he said.
                              
Potter smiled. "It was only right. Thanks for the loan. Does it still work for you?"
                              
Draco nodded.
                              
"Good, I was worried. I hardly need two wands."
                              
"You could have put it in a museum in a few years. The Wand That Defeated the Deathstick."
                              
Potter shrugged. "If you want, by all means, but it's yours. It belongs with you."
                              
Draco nodded. He wanted to ask Potter more questions, but he looked out the window.
                              
"Alright, I'll leave you alone.
                              
Draco nodded again and looked out the window. "Thank you, Potter... for the intervention, but you're only delaying the evitable. They are Slytherins... they can be subtle."
                              
"You guys aren't that subtle, trust me. See ya, Malfoy," Potter laughed and walked out of the door.
                              
Draco turned back to see that he was gone and felt strange. A somewhat pleasant conversation with Potter? It was weird. But he looked out the window, again, but he was starting to feel hope. Maybe the Gryffindors would help protect him. They are noble like that. But something deep down wondered if he could form friendships with them, too. 
                              
No. Gryffindor and Slytherins didn't belong together. Everyone knew that.