I am not dead. Not at all. I gave someone my profile info a few years ago, and they changed the stuff to say I was. Nasty prank, really. And so, I let fanfiction go. I was tired of writing, I was losing inspiration, I was losing free time. And it was fine. Until recently. I felt an itch to try to try to finish this (somewhat pathetic) story. I'm a few years older. And a few years more mature. So we'll see how it goes. Just remember, despite what some former friend said, I am not dead.

Oh, and I don't own any of this stuff. That's important too. Don't sue me.


Draco Malfoy had been having a pretty good day. His parents had outdone themselves in purchasing his supplies for school, he had enjoyed a day of pampering in Diagon Alley (his mother, realizing her baby was off to Hogwarts in mere weeks had spared no expense on his behalf), and now, Draco was getting fitted for school robes. The only thing to mar this otherwise perfect day was his father's refusal to buy Draco a racing broom—any racing broom. His father thought it better to wait until Draco was a second year, and allowed a broomstick, before he purchased a broom. That way, Draco would have the most recent model, and wouldn't have to worry about riding an outdated broom.

Draco was contemplating the wisdom of his father's decision when a bell tinkled, signaling a new customer for Madame Malkin. Draco twisted to eye the newcomer and was immediately drawn to the sight of a boy with untidy black hair and brilliant green eyes. For some reason, this boy was alone and not with parents. The boy looked as though he wanted a companion, someone to keep him company while shopping for robes. Draco normally would have dismissed such sentiments as "babyish" but couldn't bring himself to do so now. For some reason, Draco felt a pull to ease the stranger's discomfort, and decided to speak to the raven-haired boy.

But what to say? If this boy were muggle-born, he would have an appointed companion to guide him in his first adventure into Diagon Alley. Because the boy was alone, Draco assumed that, like his own parents, this boy's mother and father were off purchasing the boring school supplies—quills, ink, parchment and the like. Madam Malkin stood the boy on a footstool and began to pin up his robes. Draco decided to speak, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "Hello," he said, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said the stranger.

What kind of a response was that? Draco thought frantically, trying to figure out an appropriate topic that would encourage this strange boy to speak. Aha! In Draco's experience, not a boy existed who could resist the urge to talk about Quidditch! He decided to start with an explanation about where his parents were, so the boy would feel that Draco was an equal, because both of their parent's were off shopping. "My father's next boor buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," he said, then added "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

The boy across from Draco scrunched up his face in an unconscious gesture that to Draco seemed disbelieving. Draco immediately felt foolish. Perhaps this boy already had a broom and thought Draco was childish because he didn't have one. He decided to ask "Have you got your own broom?"

"No."

Draco was beginning to panic. A boy who didn't want to discuss new brooms? He decided to play his trump card, a proven conversation starter in his experience, "Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

Oh no! Draco could go on and on about Quidditch, but the boy didn't seem to share an interest. Quickly, Draco said "I do—Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree." Trying to move the conversation forward, Draco continued "Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." The boy looked uncomfortable at this one. Draco figured his parents were probably from different Houses, and the boy was nervous to support one house over the other in case he hurt one of his parent's feelings.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they?" Draco said, hoping the boy noticed his smooth reassurances, then couldn't resist adding "But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine belonging in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

The boy was frowning, which was a bad sign. Perhaps his parents were in Hufflepuff? But no—the boy simply replied "mmm" noncommittally. Draco was truly frustrated. What could make this silent boy open up? By now he was fascinated. Nothing intrigued Draco more than a challenge. Finally, Draco found the perfect subject.

"I say," he said, "look at that man!" The stranger twisted to look, then turned to Draco with an almost superior look on his face and said "That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts."

Draco was beginning to feel angry. No response to all of the normal conversation starters, but mention a strange man, and the boy turns to him and makes Draco out to be an ignorant? Draco quickly dredged up every mention he had ever heard about this 'Hagrid' and said "Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said the black-haired boy loftily. Draco immediately became more upset.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's sort of…savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and" Draco paused, struggling to remember what his father had said "and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." There, thought Draco. I've showed him that I do know a lot about Hogwarts. He felt pleased, until he noticed the cold glare he was receiving from the boy.

"I think he's brilliant"

Wonderful. Finally got the boy to talk, and now he was angry. "Do you?" said Draco, a sudden fear in his stomach. What if this boy was a muggleborn? No matter how much the boy intrigued him, Draco couldn't befriend a muggleborn! That would be going against everything his father stood for! Draco had to know if Hagrid was the boy's appointed magical guardian, so he said "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead" the boy replied shortly.

"Oh, sorry," said Draco, knowing he didn't sound sorry, but he was too excited that the boy wasn't a muggleborn. Unless… "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean"

Draco felt like cheering, but held his emotions in check. However, he couldn't resist saying "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Before the boy could reply, Madam Malkin led the boy to the register and handed him his money. Draco couldn't let the boy get away without saying something, so he drawled "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

The boy left without a backward glance, leaving a confused, frustrated Draco who was confused as to why the boy frustrated him so much. Ah well, thought Draco, only a few weeks until Hogwarts when I can examine this boy and figure out how to befriend him. Draco left the robe shop and headed to the bookstore to meet up with his father.


Later that evening, as Draco sat organizing his things to be packed into his new trunk (really, the house elves just made a mess of packing and put everything in the wrong place. Draco liked things just so) he thought of the boy from the robe shop again. What Draco truly couldn't figure out was why he needed that boy's approval so much. Clearly, Draco would have lots of friends for next year. Clearly, Draco would never be in a lurch for companionship. But why that boy? Draco shook his head and sighed as his mother wandered into his room.

"My dear," his mother began, "I really think you should at least consider this…thing…your father wants you to do. I know," she went on, noticing Draco's moue of distaste "I know you don't want to have a party. I just don't get why you aren't interested in a little get-together of the other future first year purebloods. It could be a great amusement." Draco scowled.

"Mother, I know you're only here because of Father. I know he's really the one interested in this 'get-together,' but I just don't care. I already know some kids, and I don't want to start the year off so very different from everyone else. I will meet kids on the train—that's what the long ride there is all about." He looked at his mother, trying to read her expression. "Do you care if I don't have a party? I just truly don't think it would be fun, especially if you drag in ALL the purebloods. That just leads to tension." His mother sighed.

"Your father will be disappointed, but I knew you'd rather avoid a party like that. After all, I've always said you take after me, more than your father, when it comes to social gatherings—"

"The fewer the better" Draco and his mother chorused, grinning at one another. His father leaned in from the corridor.

"So I take it you two have unanimously decided against a gathering?" Lucius smiled indulgently at his wife and son.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Narcissa replied, arching an eyebrow at her husband. Lucius just raised his hands in surrender.

"It was worth a try. You just wait. Draco is going to transform into a social butterfly, I just know it." Draco's parents began to banter back and forth, not noticing their son, who had slipped off into a corner to go over his interaction with that boy from the robe shop one more time in his head.


Well? Leave a review and let me know what you think. I'm going to update pretty regularly, because I have the first bit of the story already written, and can (hopefully) keep up a bit of a buffer

~C