Draco scowled and covered his ears, glaring at the source of the noise: a red faced toddler with tangled black hair and eyes too big for her face.
"Come on, Adelaide, be a good girl and get changed for your mother, eh?" the little girl's father coaxed, trying to be patient. "Your tutu needs a wash, anyway."
"NO!" Little Adelaide – Draco presumed – bellowed in reply, stamping her feet. "THE TUTU STAYS ON!"
"I can't deal with this, Raibert," Adelaide's mother wailed, "She's just impossible."
Adelaide's father rolled his eyes. "Takes after her bloody ma' then, doesn't she?" Turning his attention back to his daughter, he crouched down in front of her and sighed. "Ally... You're making a right show of yerself in front of the Malfoy boy, you know. Be a big girl and get changed fer yer Ma'."
"Don't care," Adelaide said petulantly. "Don't want to get changed. Big girls do what they want! I am a big girl and I want my tutu! You can't make me! I'll tell! You're not allowed! No!"
"Ally..." Yaxley tried again, "Come on. Yer gonna make yerself sick, carrying on like this."
"I AM A BALLERINA PRINCESS AND BALLERINA PRINCESSES WEAR TUTUS!" Adelaide screamed, "I AM A BALLERINA! YOU SAID I COULD BE A BALLER-"
"SHUT UP!" Draco screamed, having finally had enough, and the girl stopped mid-tantrum to stare at him in wonder.
She tilted her head curiously. Who was this boy who thought he could boss her about? Why were his eyes so fishy and grey? Why was his skin so pale? And why was he angry at her? Couldn't he see that she was just trying to make a point?
She smiled and blinked up at him innocently, and, completely taken in, Draco smiled back.
The little girl used this opportunity to pick up the object closest to her – a plastic teapot – and threw it as hard as she could at a bewildered Draco, and laughed with delight when one of the sharp edges nicked his forehead and drew blood.
Draco yelped and Adelaide sighed with satisfaction, reaching up to take her father's hand and allowing him to guide her calmly out of the room, poking out her tongue at a still-bleeding Draco as she did so.
Before he could retaliate, his father intervened by smacking the back of his head. "Don't get involved in things that are none of your business. Off to bed with you. I won't have my son showing me up at dinner."
"But..." Draco protested, "She was shouting! Why does she get to go to dinner and I can't? That's not fair!"
"Girls are girls. Boys are boys. Girls scream; boys do not. Girls lose their tempers, boys do not. She is a girl and you are a boy and therein lies the problem. Now go to bed."
And as his father left him alone in the playroom, Draco Malfoy decided, with all the wisdom of a four year old, that he absolutely hated girls.
"What are you staring at?" Draco hissed, and the girl raised an eyebrow.
"Not sure, but it's ugly and staring right back," she replied lazily, looking down at the necklace that was gripped in her hands.
He recognised her now – she was the screaming toddler that he'd encountered a little over a year ago – although this time she was wearing a green frilly party dress with her scowl rather than a muddied pink tutu, and her hair was in an elegant little chignon rather than loose and knotted.
She was four now and he was five, and he was still altogether unimpressed with her.
He caught a glimpse of jewellery in her lap and frowned. "What's that?"
"A string of my mama's pearls." She gave them a meaningful tug and glowered when they remained intact on the string.
"Why are you trying to break them?" he wondered, shifting in his seat to look around; the last thing he wanted was any of his school friends seeing him talking to a girl.
Rolling her eyes with the gravity of someone much older, Adelaide sighed. "Because my mama said I had to wear them and I don't like being told what to do."
Draco scoffed. "You're such a pathetic baby, Adelaide."
She sniffed. "Don't care."
"You will care when your father catches you," he retorted, "You'll get in trouble."
He stiffened when she grinned wickedly. "I never get into trouble."
There was a snapping noise and Adelaide gasped as pearls scattered in all directions, slapping a hand over her mouth as people began to slip on the tiny little balls. A helpless giggle escaped her mouth and Draco couldn't help but laugh along with her.
"... You can't catch me, Papa!" she shrieked gleefully, hiding behind a tree.
The adults watched on with amusement as the notoriously bad tempered Raibert Yaxley chased his little girl around the grounds of Malfoy Manor.
"She's the apple of his eye," he heard his mother murmur softly; "He just adores her, doesn't he?"
Draco frowned disapprovingly at the girl; she had rosy cheeks, tangled black hair, scuffed shins and an altogether messy look about her. He hated to be messy. In spite of his morals, a part of Draco's seven year old self longed to join in the fun, longed for his own father to chase him rather than constantly seeming irritated by his very presence.
"Come and play, Draco!" Adelaide called; giggling as her father finally caught her and began to tickle her. "Come on, come and play with me!"
He narrowed his eyes. "Fat chance, Yaxley. I don't play with girls."
Adelaide glared at him, her six year old brain alert to the scorn in his voice. "You're so boring. You never want to play, you only want to sit and read and be quiet. Unless it's stupid old Quidditch. You're just going to get fat and then you'll be even more boring because you won't be able to play even if you wanted to, because you'll be so fat that you'll not be able to lift your fat bottom off of your stupid boring chair!"
"Adelaide," her father said sharply, "That's not a nice thing to say."
Her eyes slid over to her father and she shrugged. "I won't say sorry. I don't care."
He was hiding behind a rack of robes, peeping out as a familiar looking little girl adjusted her father's tie.
"We'll take these," he heard her say to the shop assistant, "And you can stop making moon eyes at my Father, you classless desperate bint. He's married, and even if he wasn't he would have much better taste than a chubby squib like you. Honestly - my mother was just in here, don't you have any dignity at all?"
Draco grinned, eagerly awaiting the stern reprimand that he was sure was coming, but Yaxley merely shook his head at his little girl.
"Ye need t' be more polite to strangers, Ally," he chortled, ruffling her hair.
From behind his rack, Draco dismayed. He started as the robes were swept out of the way, and was surprised to find himself staring into the eyes of an unimpressed Adelaide. Her hair was longer and her eyes didn't seem as huge on her face, and Draco scowled as she raised a dismissive eyebrow at him.
"It's rude to eavesdrop and creepy to spy," she said, and sauntered off.
It was the emotion in her eyes that freaked him out. Or, rather, the lack of.
Her usually rosy-cheeked face was pinched and drawn, her usual smile replaced by a solemn lips pressed tightly together in a firm line.
Her black dress pulled away all of her colour.
Even her usually-wild hair seemed tamed by a thick, restraining plait that reached down to her waist.
It was the first time that he'd ever seen her to be so serious. He'd seen her happy, he'd seen her furious, he'd seen her amused, but never this. Never lifeless.
Her jaw was clenched and her small hand was dwarfed by her father's bigger one.
It was her absolute refusal to show weakness that got to him the most. Her mother had just died, and yet her face was dry, her eyes tearless, and only the slight shaking of her hands gave away the fact that she was bothered at all. It wasn't normal for a seven year old to appear so numb, and Draco could not take his eyes from the spectacle that she was.
Her 'strength' drew praise from the adults, but Draco knew better. She wasn't being strong; on the inside she was falling apart. Not that he had asked her, but he knew. It was a defence mechanism that pureblooded children developed at one time or another – to show them that you cared was weakness, and weakness was failure.
Yaxley, too, showed little emotion, crying only silent tears that trickled down his cheeks and onto his sombre black robes, until Adelaide had wordlessly given him a handkerchief and squeezed his hand with hers.
...
She hadn't left her father's side the whole day, except to replenish his brandy or fetch him a half-hourly miniature sandwich to soak up the alcohol.
It was her silence that made Draco the most uncomfortable, the way that she kept her eyes averted and did not engage with anyone. Her stance next to her father's left was stoic and protective, and her eyes flitted around as if constantly assessing for a threat.
Her mother had been killed in a horrific freak accident involving lots of Muggles, lots of cars and a lot of deaths. He couldn't recall the exact details, but it had been a huge event in both the Muggle and Magical world.
Her father's malicious ranting about Muggle motor vehicles and Muggle pride and how Muggles were filth made him want to cover his ears, especially when Raibert started to attack Muggleborns, calling them 'Mudbloods'. He'd heard that word before, and it made him nauseous.
Adelaide caught his eye, and the brokenness he saw in her gaze made him shiver.
"Hello Draco," she said quietly, opening the door to her father's office wider so that Draco could slip inside. "My father won't be long."
It had been five weeks since her mother had died, and in those five weeks she had turned eight. He knew without asking that she wasn't feeling any better about what had happened, but he did anyway.
"How are you?"
She shrugged. "I'm fine."
He didn't push it. "Good."
She glanced at him disinterestedly, and Draco was struck by how much the purple rings beneath her eyes resembled bruises.
Adelaide came alive when Lucius Malfoy entered her father's office, standing and beaming up at the older man. "Would you like a drink, Mr Malfoy? Or a cigar? My father has some Cognac and a box of Cubans."
"That would be lovely, Adelaide. Thank you," Lucius replied, shooing Draco out of his chair and retaking his son's place.
"My father will be along soon – he was just catching up with my aunt Dolores," Adelaide went on, "He's been frightfully busy lately."
Once she had provided Lucius with a drink and a cigar, Adelaide stood in a calm silence by the door; hovering pathetically like a house-elf, in case Mr Malfoy should need anything.
His father, much to Draco's disgust, was utterly charmed by her demure smile, her effortless etiquette and deferential treatment to her elders.
"A sign of good breeding and an excellent up-bringing," Lucius informed Draco upon their departure, "Exactly how I would want any daughter of mine to behave."
Draco hated her, then, for pleasing his father – something that he rarely did.
"Don't you ever call me that again!" She screamed, thrashing against Draco's arms as she tried to get at the boy who had so grievously insulted her. "I am not a Hufflepuff! I am not weak! You're the Hufflepuff! Look at you! Bawling your eyes out like a pathetic baby! You're the weak one!"
Theo – Draco's unfortunate friend – was crying like a little girl, blood pouring from his nose from where Adelaide had punched him. Theo opened his mouth to say something scathing in return, but Draco shook his head to dissuade him.
"Just go, Theo. She'll only hurt you more."
In spite of the blood and tears, Theo scoffed. "She's a girl."
"And she's already broken your nose," Draco pointed out impatiently. "Just go."
...
He restrained her until she had sufficiently calmed down – and until Theo was a safe distance away – and then he let her go, pulling her to sit down next to him on the swings.
It was funny, though, that a fragile-looking eight year old girl with perfectly curled ebony hair, freckles and massive blue eyes could inflict so much damage to a well-built nine year old boy with only a single well-placed fist to the face.
"You can't just punch everyone who insults you," he said, rolling his eyes at the thought. "Your behaviour really is atrocious."
"Should I be more like you?" Adelaide retorted, "Should I let people just say what they want about me and then cry about it to my father afterwards? No, I stick up for myself. I don't need my father to fight my battles."
Draco stood up and looked at her with disgust. "Suit yourself. I was only trying to help."
"Well, I don't need your help!" She said fiercely, "I don't need anyone."
"You're going to Hogwarts in September," she said, and it wasn't a question.
Draco shrugged. "It might be Durmstrang. I haven't decided. Mother wants me to go to Hogwarts, though." He turned to face her and raised an eyebrow, feeling altogether superior to this skinny girl who was four months his junior. "Why?"
"I was just wondering," she replied with a shrug, shifting in her chair.
Draco nodded and sat back, pretending to stare out into the crammed ballroom when actually he was studying her appearance. It had been a year since he had last seen her, when she'd punched Theodore Nott in the face for calling her a weak Hufflepuff.
Her back was straight, her shoulders back, and her legs were crossed at the ankle by the front-left leg of her chair. Her head was held high, her chin thrust up, and yet her eyes were lowered. Her dress was green velvet trimmed with silver lace; traditionally Slytherin, traditionally predictable, and not at all her.
All in all, she gave the impression of a demure, well bred young lady, and Draco was impressed.
"I haven't seen you for a while," he said conversationally, and Adelaide shrugged.
"My father said you were a bad influence."
Draco scoffed. "If I remember rightly, it was you who punched someone. Not me."
Adelaide looked up and caught the eye of Theodore Nott, who glared at her. "Speaking of the devil, your little friend doesn't seem very impressed that you're associating with the girl who broke his nose." Draco looked up at her and Adelaide nudged her head in Theo's direction. "My father said that the boy had to go to Mungo's to get it fixed."
"He did," Draco agreed with a smirk, "You do have a dreadfully good right hook."
They shared an amused glance, and Adelaide sighed. "I want another piece of cake, but father says too much sugar is bad for the teeth and the disposition."
"My father said the same," Draco sympathised, "And he's been guarding the buffet table ever since."
Adelaide stood up and bit her lip. "Come on. I've got an idea."
...
Two hours later, Draco and Adelaide pushed away the now-empty plate of cake and grinned sleepily. Adelaide peeked out from underneath the buffet table and smirked at the sight of Lucius and her father lolling drunkenly in their chairs, both men struggling to hold a conversation due to their level of inebriation.
"I feel a bit sick," Draco admitted, and Adelaide let out a small burst of laughter.
"It was worth it, though."
