3/5

Were Gaara a less refined Jinchūriki, he might have used his sand to mould a simple question mark above his head regarding the term Draco and several other Slytherins had used, but being the educated person that he was, Gaara had his sand form the full 'Pardon?' to which Draco explained the term. He had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he told Gaara about how offensive some people found it, to be called a mudblood.

It was the surest sign of progress so far. It made Gaara smile.

Gaara stopped smiling. Gaara sighed.

Up ahead was an underclassman being bullied... again. This familiar sight immediately spurred Gaara's tactical mind into action as he planned to look for an easy way to get out of his classrooms without always running into these situations that he just had to help with. Both of the third-years walked onwards into the scene, where a group of second-year Ravenclaw girls were levitating a pair of their peer's shoes in the air, out her reach. Without a word, as a team, Gaara used his sand to retrieve the floating shoes and Draco maliciously threatened to set Gaara on the bullies if they didn't run along quickly. Gaara didn't like being used as a weapon, nor did he like doing all of the work, but he figured he and Draco were good enough friends for that sort of thing. Besides, friends of Draco's calibre get woken up even earlier in the morning to start the day, according to Rock Lee. Who was Gaara to argue with the tried and tested methods of social interaction of such an obviously well balanced individual?

After the other girls had run off in terror, the remaining girl, the subject of the bullying, looked to her knights in shining armour and thanked them. "Thank you very much. They usually just leave them some place high up so I have to climb to get them. I was never much good at the levitation spell myself, you see; I don't know why..." She seemed to drift out of her own introduction for a moment, her eyes wandering to the ceiling before she turned back to the pair she had been addressing with the startled look of someone who had forgot there was someone else in the room; "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way."

Draco ignored the girl's airy thanks, not interested in being told what he was doing was right by a stranger. Stranger still, when he considered the girl's appearance, complete with radish earrings and vacant stare. Draco didn't know much about female fashion trends, not nearly as much as his attentive mother might have liked, but he knew that a girl was not meant to wear radishes on her ears. That was not marriage, or friend, material. Uninterested as he was, Draco nodded his acceptance and went to lean against the wall whilst his friend finished up with their irksome spontaneous good deed.

It occurred to Draco that he would have to check his and Gaara's behaviour in future lest they continue to act like goody-two-shoes and become The Golden Duo. He wasn't about to turn into another Potter.

Gaara approached the younger girl who was, to his hidden shame, the same height as him, and presented her stolen shoes to her. "Thank you very much, mister Gaara." She took the shoes gently, and smiled brightly at the secretly peeved diminutive teenager and then thought again, "I never thought you were a monster, not like everyone says. You're just like the thestrals, I think. You're surrounded by death, but you aren't letting it in anymore. Good for you." Her light voice drifted off despite the shocked look on Gaara's face. "It really was very nice of you to help like that."

"Gaara used to be a 'shinobi' where he came from. I think that's what they do, help people and stuff; like an auror." Draco piped in, dismissing the girl's praise, bored of standing off to the side.

"I'd love to talk to you some more, Gaara, only, I have to go to my lesson now. They don't much like it when I'm late." That Gaara had remained silent throughout the encounter seemed lost on the lunatic who now seemed to be focussing on his head. "You know, you have very nice hair and a very nice scar. I hope you've found it." Luna twirled around and began to walk off, zigzagging along her way, not bothering to put her shoes on just yet.

Draco wondered what she meant about Gaara finding 'it,' and Gaara wondered how the headmaster let so many mentally unstable people into one school.

The pair walked off soon after Luna's departure, Draco enumerating his experiences of being the Slytherin house Seeker in Quidditch, a position some coveted highly, a position that Gaara didn't care about. Now, if only he had a way of telling Draco this, as they made their way in the general direction of their next lesson, transfiguration.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It had been a long while since Gaara's muscles had ached from exertion. Not since he had arrived in this world had he worked himself hard enough to make his back and his legs throb with a satisfyingly burning pain. A small solace to him, other than the obvious satisfaction of a day's training making him stronger, was the pain Draco was certain to be in. It had, after all, been the unfit Slytherin's suggestion that they do something else, rather than practicing spellwork that early Saturday morn; though, Draco had probably been thinking of something more like sleeping in until nine or ten and then spending the day playing their altered Quidditch variant, maybe even invite some others to join in. Instead, Gaara had informed his friend that they would be 'training' that day. Draco had had no idea what to expect from that one word, but he would know forevermore that it meant pain.

The work-out was no Gai routine, Gaara still having not managed to pull off the handstand-around-the-village shtick, but the shinobi-worthy exercises were more than draining for the layabout that was Draco. Suffice to say, Draco wasn't going to be learning taijutsu or long distance running any time this millennium. Still, to the sloth's credit, he did try to keep up with Gaara as he was led on a ten mile jog. It would have been a sprint, but Gaara was fairly sure Draco wouldn't make it half a mile before collapsing at that rate. He lasted a full two miles at a jogging pace.

So, after half a day training and the other half being cursed by his roommate, Gaara was more than happy to slip into the luxurious baths he had not known existed until now. Gaara did know full well that the baths were for prefects only, being situated in the prefects' bathroom in fact, but threatening a handful of older teenage civilians into quickly exiting the baths was a small cost. This was one of the many things he missed about home, baths. Having had to make do with showers, or without at times, the feeling of the heavenly hot water around him was relaxing bliss. Or, it was, until he heard someone else enter the bathing area. Gaara wasn't all too worried about his peace being disrupted for long, knowing that there was only one person in the entire castle who wouldn't run from him in fear. It was just Gaara's luck that that one person was now taking his bath after a long and hard day of working-out with his sadistic roommate. It turned out that Gaara wasn't the only one willing to threaten the prefects when need be.

"Oh," Draco, in just his bathing towel, looked rightfully shocked to see his roommate sitting in the hottest area of the bath after having disappeared earlier on without explanation. Draco hadn't been nearly as concerned this time because the red-head had taken his gourd with him, which was now propped up against a sink nearby.

Gaara closed his eyes, too relaxed to care and not wanting to encourage a conversation when he was trying to sink into a tranquil coma. Draco, over his initial surprise, entered the bath too, sitting down and staying as quiet as a murderer could hope for. All would be well for Gaara, were it not for the feeling of having intent eyes on him. Sighing a little, Gaara cracked open an eye and spotted that Draco was indeed staring at him with an inappropriate intensity for the time and place. With the look lingering longer than he considered necessary, Gaara opened his eyes fully and raised an (invisible) eyebrow, bemused, waiting for an adequate answer for Draco's examination of his torso and face.

A cursory glance at Gaara's questioning face was all it took for Draco to blush terribly and stutter an apology before explaining, "S-sorry, it's just... that mark on your stomach, and all those scars..." Gaara looked down, seeing the demon seal prominently set upon his belly and the myriad of scars that were usually covered up by his sand armour. It surprised the heavily worn boy that it had taken this long for his friend to see him like this, having lived in such close proximity for the past month. It was also unfortunate. The scars were easy to explain, a good few of them having appeared since his adventure in this world had begun, but the seal was another matter entirely. The only reason it was showing at all was because Gaara had been using his chakra to rest his arms on top of the water's surface. Luckily, Gaara had a kind of defence for times like these that could deflect any follow-up questions; he turned his head and pretended he hadn't heard. He was but a poor mute boy.

"What is it, the... mark?"

Gaara closed his eyes again and sunk down a little in the water.

"Gaara..." Draco, knowing he was being ignored whilst he tried to breach that topic, decided to drop it. The roommates soaked for a good long while, only coming out of their trances to fling a glare or a threat at one of those presumptuous prefects trying to access their own baths. The nerve of some people.

When Gaara had soaked enough, his skin beginning to prune in the most uncomfortable way, he stood and walked out of the baths without even a backward glance to Draco. The scarred teen slipped into the changing room, dumped his bathing towel and dried himself before redressing and suppressing the fox-like urge to prank Draco, seeing as his clothes were so helplessly laid out. Restraint was Gaara's middle name as of recent months, and the pat on the back from his best friend back in Konoha would only confound his shame if said friend were to learn of his acting on his mischievous impulses. Sparing the potential prank one more nervous glance, Gaara moved onwards towards his dorm room so that he could meditate for a little while without the distraction of his roommate's presence, and do some of his mountainous homework over the course of the night. He wasn't very tired anyway.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"And so Garb'l-e-Nark von Humpershpeil, son of the famous Goblin industrialist Orgag the Mechanical, not to be confused with Organic the Vegetarian, and the witch Herga the Disquieting, settled the second-ever peace treaty of its kind between the Goblins and the Wizard's Coalition in 1535 caused by the First Great Carpet Dispute. Garb'l-e-Nark is also notable for his contributions to the field of Goblin-Centaur economics relating to inheritance tax allowances. This fascinating life of economic development was facilitated by the Minister for Magic at the time, who is now believed to have been von Humpershpeil in disguise, who allowed Garb'l-e-Nark unlimited access to the Centaurs as well as signing into law the economic mandates required for such a risky fiscal move. However, in 1530, at the start of the First Great Carpet Dispute, the then Minister for Magic, Kran-e-L'Brag was ousted from office when many questioned his building a large statue of his long-time colleague von Humpershpeil. This statue was later melted down to make bed frames."

The bored senseless red-head had seldom wanted to exorcise a spirit as much as Professor Binns, even Shukaku was... Well, Cuthbert Binns was still the second worst teacher Gaara was forced to endure. At least the other students were able to fall asleep to avoid the horror of two hours listening to the doddering old spook reciting the most dry and useless history ever recorded, Gaara, meanwhile, was an insomniac who had trouble enough sleeping at night. He was doomed. Occasionally Gaara would fire off a small bullet of sand at the dead teacher's head, only for it to fly on through untouched and explode softly against the far wall before sloping back to Gaara for the next shot. Even with this excitement, unnoticed by all of the other snoozing students, didn't help Gaara. He meditated for hours on end and yet this lesson seemed to last forevermore.

There was only one other student who was awake and, by the looks of her notebook, this was by choice. Every time Hermione saw another projectile pass through the oblivious Binns' head, she turned to glare at Gaara, to his disinterest. She had tried a few times to wake either Harry or Ron, so that they too could witness the suspect doing something nefarious, but both of them only woke to check the clock and, at seeing the lesson as still far from over, resumed ignoring their dear friend.

Draco had tried to stay awake, and lasted longer than most, but that only amounted to paying attention for fifteen minutes into the lecture before dropping his head. He hadn't even been writing the lecture notes he was supposed to. Everyone knew you got your notes either from a nerd like Granger (Draco had been saddened to find, after their first History of Magic lesson of the year, that his studious friend Gaara hadn't taken any notes at all) or you worked from one of the countless History text books from the library. What Draco had written, before the soft lullaby of the elderly-looking ghost at the front of the room got to him, was a list of the strange things he'd noticed about Gaara. He'd shielded his book with his arm and went to sleep on top of it to prevent Gaara from rumbling him, and he'd only noted the really strange things about Gaara otherwise the only apt description of his strange attributes would be simply 'Gaara,' nevertheless, it confused Draco when he looked over these notes later on. There just seemed to be something missing.

'Gaara (first name or last?). Full name Sabaku no Gaara (apparently):

1. He can't talk (unless he clones himself)

2. Foreign (from where?)

3. Red-hair (too dark)

4. The scars

5. That mark on his chest (another tattoo?)

6. Tattoo on his forehead

7. He doesn't sleep every night

8. His disappearing (during a full moon!)

9. His sand power and the container thing

10. Whatever a 'shinobi' is

11. His personality

12. He doesn't know about the Wizarding World

13. He didn't know about Quidditch!

14. He didn't know basic magic (still doesn't...)

15. Magic doesn't work properly

16. Is he a pureblood? Or even a wizard?'

Draco would have been very concerned with Gaara's disappearing during a full moon, a fact he'd noticed the next day, had he not remembered that the first night back at Hogwarts had been a full moon, albeit cloudy, and he would have noticed if Gaara had turned into a murderous monster. And werewolves weren't affected that drastically by the weather on the night of their transformation. Everyone knows that. Except Potter and Weasley...

Still, whatever was missing was something big, the platinum blond was sure of that much. He just wished he could just outright ask Gaara what it was, but nothing was ever that simple with his fellow outcast. Half the time he would follow Draco absentmindedly and nod whenever an opinion was asked of him, like any good friend would, and other times he would be distant and standoffish, as if Draco's very existence annoyed him. The noble Malfoy heir normally would dismiss anyone who acted like this, he liked to know where he stood with people, but Gaara was different to Draco because he was everything Draco wasn't. All the others around Draco, even his old so-called friends, had been cowardly blood purists who had no power on their own. It sickened Draco now, and he wanted to change, even if he was forced to associate with moderate Slytherins like Tracey Davis and Roy Norbel while he shunned his old (not friends) acquaintances like Blaise Zabini, who now went out of his way to usurp Draco's old place at the head of the pack, and Crabbe & Goyle, who were more afraid of him than ever before... for some reason. Even Pansy had forsaken him, and she'd been so pretty. Now she only scoffed at him if he came within ten feet of her.

The heir dreaded what his father would say, or worse, what his father would do. He dreaded it so much that he hadn't opened any mail in nearly two weeks. Arguably, that had been the bigger mistake, as now his mother would be worrying and, from the rapidly growing pile of letters on his bedroom desk, getting progressively angrier. If Lucius was his biggest fear, his mother was a close second. Second only because she never hit him, though if ever she were to, this might well be it. What was worse was that Draco knew there was at least one howler from his mother waiting in the pile, and because his mother was prone to using plainly coloured envelopes for hers, he wouldn't know which was hers until he opened it. Mrs. Malfoy had also disabled the exploding charm function of the letter so that Draco could open it when he was good and ready rather than in the company of all of his friends and classmates. It just wouldn't do to show such overt emotions in front of his peers, after all. Still, despite that no immediate threat was being posed by his waiting to open his howler and read the rest of his post, Draco still held out hope that he would be struck by a stray blasting hex or ton of sand so that he could enjoy a blissful coma for a week or two instead of the impending threat of a visit from his father (and possibly his mother as well).

Frankly, Draco wasn't sure which scared him more about such a visit, his father and mother's anger at him, or their reaction to his new (best (only)) friend.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Where to start...

Mistake number 1: Letting Gaara practice the wand movements with his actual wand.

Mistake number 2: Offering to practice against Gaara, seeing as he had improved so much and would be less likely to accidentally mess up the spell.

Mistake number 3: Not ducking.

Lupin, a man with a history of more regrets than hot meals, looked back at the last half hour he had spent on the floor of his classroom clutching his stomach because the tickling hex Gaara had sent at him had hit him so hard he had almost lost his breakfast, and he sighed. The attacker had, in either shame or disinterest, gone to the back of the room to sit on his own whilst the rest of the students continued with their own practices. The closeted werewolf would have liked to have thought that Gaara was so ashamed at his having hurt Lupin that he had to take a moment to sit on his own and worry senselessly about whether his precious teacher was alright. He would have liked to believe that. What he had seen, through a pain-filled haze, was Gaara hit him with the curse, wait until he groaned in pain, and at seeing his professor was not dead, gone to the back of the room where he then pulled out a large book and began to read. He hadn't glanced up since a stray spell impacted his sand shield, not even to check on his dear friend's fragile health; and that was how he liked to think of Gaara, a friend, a student and an attempted murderer.

When he regained his senses, the walking wounded stumbled back to his desk and fished a small letter out of his drawer, which he had hidden in a magical compartment he himself had created specially. The letter in question was unassuming and held only a single sheet of parchment, and yet would certainly be enough, if discovered by the wrong individual with the right information, to land him with a very lengthy stay in Azkaban prison. Luckily, there were only a handful of people alive that had the right information that could incriminate him with the letter, so he held no reluctance in pulling it out in the middle of his class of third-year students, in which Harry Potter was now standing (over the giggling form of his friend Ron who was trying to undo the tickling hex that had been cast upon him). Lupin took his quill and scribbled a little note at the bottom of the letter he had been sent, before slipping it back into the envelope and sliding that into a small book called Harmless Hexes and their Makers.

"I think you might find this book particularly interesting, Gaara," Lupin handed the thin book to the questioning boy. "A friend of mine recommended it to me." Gaara nodded and slipped the book into his old leather satchel to read later. Part of the off-worlder really hoped it wasn't just the beginner's spell book and a not-so-subtle hint to practice more on his own from the wounded practice dummy who was now limping back to sit at his desk and nurse his poor stomach.

Draco, who hadn't missed the exchange, ducked under the hex that was sent his way and sent one right back. Several weeks ago, had one of his acquaintances been given such a book from a professor like Lupin, he would have been livid at the insinuation of incompetence and immediately sent a letter to his father to have such a professor sacked. Now, however, he could neither send a letter to his father nor could he blame Lupin when he himself had been on the receiving end of far too many of Gaara's ridiculous spells. Frankly, he was half tempted to recommend Gaara be barred from such practices himself, but he couldn't insult his friend like that. Unless they were partnered together again, then it was a matter of survival.

The lesson ended and the students exited the classroom, all keeping an even greater distance between themselves and Gaara than before to avoid his immense spell-casting abilities. Despite all of the rumours of Gaara's inability to perform even the simplest of spells properly, when the class saw a third year incapacitate their teacher effortlessly with a tickling hex, they couldn't help but be awed by that power. Well, the Slytherins were awed, the Gryffindors were mostly angry by the attack on the kind man. Harry was more than bemused. He was really starting to like Lupin, which was natural seeing as both previous Defence teachers had been either incompetent and possessed by his arch-nemesis, or incompetent and really annoying. Then there was Lupin's apparent friendship with his father, which he had been meaning to talk to the man about sometime soon. All in all, Gaara seemed worse than even Draco now.

And that was another odd thing that all three of the Trio had noticed and/or mentioned, that Draco Malfoy, reputed git, was now slightly less gittish. Not to the extent that he wasn't a foul-mouthed, snobbish, weak little blood-puritan, but he hadn't cornered Harry to attack him, verbally or magically, in weeks. It was refreshing. That, along with Snape's attentions being drawn elsewhere, was adding up to a pretty good year for him. Now, if only there wasn't an infamous mass-murderer on the loose looking to kill him in the name of the even worse Dark Lord who was still out there somewhere, and the swarm of Dementors who had a tendency to attack students, if the episode on the train was any indication.

Harry didn't get a chance to confront Gaara for his having attacked Lupin unprovoked, with his two trusty friends backing him up, as both Gaara and his shadow, Draco, had disappeared in the rush of exiting students. Harry couldn't even take the opportunity to talk to Lupin about his parents because he had apparently limped away to the Madam Pomfrey while no one was looking. All in all, Harry considered this a battle lost.

Meanwhile, Gaara and Draco were walking back to their common room, Defence having been the last lesson of the day, and both were in quiet contemplation. After they passed a pair of snickering fifth years, who darted up the stairs past them, Draco said offhandedly, "Gaara, have you ever thought about pretending to be a squib?"

He was promptly ignored.

When they arrived at the Slytherin common room, as the secret door swung outwards to allow them entrance, an intense wave of heated air hit them dead on, almost knocking Draco off his feet. They walked into the usually cool room to find it hotter than a sauna and devoid of people bar one or two of the liberals lounging around in just a shirt and shorts drinking iced drinks.

Draco stomped up to one of the first years who seemed to be the only other fully dressed Slytherin there, and highly uncomfortable for it, "What's going on here?"

"I-I don't know. It just got really hot, like, in the last few minutes. Jack's gone to get professor Snape."

Draco didn't know who Jack was, and he didn't care, he wouldn't be kicked out of his own dormitory over something like this. Besides, there was a chance that Gaara would take his electing to leave the dorm as a signal he wanted extra time 'training.' The pureblood didn't care if the house was set on fire, he wouldn't be subjected to that torture lightly. Speaking of his sadistic friend, Gaara seem to be perfectly happy stood in the heat, whilst Draco was sweating a disgusting bucket-load. It would make sense, Draco thought, if Gaara came from a desert like one of the ones in Egypt. He had all of that sand and didn't know anything about British wizarding culture.

Gaara walked to their room and Draco followed, wanting to ask about Gaara's home again. Maybe if he guessed right Gaara would tell him. It couldn't hurt to try.

Gaara was loving the heat, so like his own home, if a little more humid. He sauntered back to his room and thanked whatever accident or fault in the heating system that had delivered such lovely weather. He was a desert dweller and the weather in this world right now was closer to that of Snow. He was glad to find his room was just as hot as the rest of Slytherin but then Draco moved to the window to let the cold back in. Thinking fast, Gaara called out his sand and created a spherical shield of sand like he so often did, except, this one was formed around Draco, trapping him inside along with the heat. The Jinchūriki needed some privacy to check through the book Lupin had given him, so he figured Draco could suffer the heat for a few minutes.

Draco, for his part, was in an oven of sand. He was going to kill Gaara.

The Bijū container flipped through the tome and was glad to find a letter inside the pages, and not just painfully simple spell theory. The letter was addressed to him, but had 'Moony' written above it, scribbled out, presumably this letter was just being forwarded to him. Gaara knew three people in this world well enough to receive a letter from: one was forwarding it to him, one was trapped in a boiling hot torture chamber, so that just left his favourite escaped convict (in this world). Pulling out the parchment, he read the messy scrawl:

'Moony,

Gaara,

I'm so happy to hear Prongs Jr. is doing well. He's making his godfather so proud. He's following in Prongs' hoofsteps for sure. I knew you'd do a great job. Also, my condolences about Lily's terrible spells. I'm sure he'll get better with practice, but at least he's fighting in his own way for the greater good. I hope he keeps fighting for the light, converting little Death Eaters. Getting a Malfoy to pull his head out of his arse long enough to smell the daisies is an achievement worth commending.

You or Lily should visit soon because I'm really bored sitting here on my own. The Dementors didn't drive me insane, no matter what you or any trained medi-witch may say, but this boredom might just do it. Besides, it's been so long since I entertained company, and I would relish the challenge of cooking a full roast dinner again.

Moony, if you don't act on Wormtail soon, I will. I can't wait much longer.

Yours,

Padfoot'

At the bottom of the page, in Lupin's handwriting, it read:

'Lily,

I would be more than happy to give you some one-on-one help outside of class, to improve your spellcasting, you seem to have had trouble with it. When you are done reading this, burn the note and dispose of the ashes. If you would like the extra lessons, tell me you need help in your next lesson.

Moony'