This story is for anne-writes.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the books.
"Draco, stand up straight." Lucius tugged irritatingly at the small blonde boy's collar. Draco rolled his eyes and tried to move out of reach of his father's talon-like fingers. He nodded absentmindedly as Lucius listed off the things he was and was not to do while attending Hogwarts while they passed through the barrier. He was stunned by the bustling crowd and the large, brilliant red train. He found a seat in an empty compartment and sat with his forehead pressed against the cool window, watching the chaos of goodbyes. His father was already gone.
Among the throng of bustling students he noticed a girl with brilliant crimson hair and tears in her eyes, pleading anxiously with a woman who was quite obviously her mother. The girl looked to be about Draco's age, perhaps a bit younger, and judging by the crowd of redheads surrounding her, she was probably a Weasley.
Stay away from the Weasleys, Father had said, filthy blood traitors, the whole lot of them. Draco let out a heavy sigh, knowing he would probably never talk to her if he could help it, even though he wanted to. He had to keep his distance. It was for the best.
He forced himself to look elsewhere, trying to establish which other students were purebloods. Children of muggles were dirty, Father had told him, though Draco had never been able to tell where someone came from until he was told. Maybe the impurity was somewhere deeper, he thought, a place you couldn't get to just talking to someone.
His gaze travelled back to the redheaded girl who was now discreetly dabbing at her cheeks with her sleeves. He wondered if she would see him staring, but noticed she was intensely focused on some scrawny kid with messy black hair. Draco decided he would have to find out what was so interesting about this boy.
His heart sank as he watched the girl say goodbye to her brothers, and they clambered onto the train without her. He wondered how old she was.
It didn't take Draco long to learn to hate the Weasleys. The one in his year was an annoying, hot tempered git, and the twins were utterly unbearable. Starting his first night, Draco was a victim of countless unfortunate occurrences, and Fred and George always looked at smugly, with eyes full of laughter. He knew they were behind it, but no matter how hard he tried, he never caught either in the act.
By the end of his first week, Draco had already had to owl his father for a locking schoolbag and underpants that resisted bunching and shrinking charms. By his second month, he had visited the hospital wing no less than seven times for minor, but excruciatingly embarrassing, conditions.
Stay away from Weasleys, Father had warned, and Draco now knew all too well the validity of that statement.