Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I just used the premise of one of their scenes and added my own details for the purpose of this story.
Charming
Draco Malfoy slowly ran his hand along a row of books which were hidden away on the shelves of the top floor of Flourish and Blotts.
As the noise level had gradually increased downstairs, he had moved closer and closer to these shelves, determined to stay away from the balcony overlooking the floor below and to stay out of sight for as long as possible.
He couldn't decide who he wanted to avoid the most, although he knew that it was probably a close call between the near-hysterical witches and photographers downstairs (who had apparently, for some reason unknown to Draco, spent the entire morning eagerly awaiting the arrival of the famous Gilderoy Lockhart) and of course his father, who had spent the past few hours openly criticising Draco's first year exam results, among other things.
It wasn't as though he didn't love his father or respect his opinions, but sometimes enough was enough. Today's insults would have been more tolerable if Draco hadn't already endured two months of: Why was Harry Potter selected for the Quidditch team before you were, Draco? or Remind me again why Slytherin didn't win the House Cup this year, Draco? And then, perhaps the worst of all: What did you do that was so bad that Harry Potter managed to get you a detention in the Forbidden Forest, Draco? Were you not ashamed-
Draco felt himself shuddering slightly as he started to pull several of the books off the middle shelf so that he could examine their front covers. He hated disappointing his father and despite his best efforts to the contrary, he seemed to have done it a lot this past year. He knew that he would have to try much harder at Hogwarts in second year.
He grabbed hold of yet another book but then quickly pushed it back into place with a roll of his eyes. He had hoped that there might actually be something interesting in the books up here, what with them being kept away from all of the boring schoolbooks downstairs. He had already flicked through the pages of every book that had the words 'dark' and 'art' in the title, but so far he had had no luck. He knew that he should have tried to get into the bookshop in Knockturn Alley instead.
As Draco's hand clenched around a thin book with a brown cover that looked as though it might be more promising, he was momentarily blinded by a bright flash of light from one of the cameras downstairs. He was almost tempted to run to the balcony and shout something insulting to the photographer, but he stopped himself at the last minute. His father could be down there for all Draco knew; he could only stand outside talking to Pansy's parents for so long. He had already listened to enough lectures from his father today about the importance of not drawing negative attention to himself in public.
The crowd continued to chatter excitedly about Lockhart's impending arrival. Draco kept his eyes focused on the book and tried to ignore them. What was this obsession that everybody had with famous wizards? Even the pages of the book that he was looking at seemed to be covered with pictures of wizards like Lockhart, along with extensive paragraphs about their so-called triumphs over dark wizards.
As far as Draco was concerned, most wizards irritated him whether they were famous or not. In fact, the famous ones seemed to irritate him even more.
As he turned the pages of the book with a lot more force than was necessary, Draco wondered bitterly why Harry Potter wasn't downstairs in the middle of it all. After all, this would surely be just his thing-the crowd of adoring fans, the photographers, the free publicity…
However, it was looking increasingly likely that Draco wasn't going to get to see Harry Potter in Diagon Alley at all this summer. It wasn't for lack of trying on Draco's part though; he had casually looked around for him in all of the shops every time he had found himself in Diagon Alley with his parents in July and August. His face suddenly felt warmer as he remembered how Madam Malkin had rudely thrown him out of her shop a week ago when he had finally admitted (after nearly an hour) then he didn't actually need any new robes for school.
After all that effort, Draco knew that he would be severely disappointed if he didn't at least run into Potter for a few minutes today-he had so many new insults prepared that he wanted to try out on him. It would be such a shame to have to wait any longer to use them.
His personal favourites were the insults about the Weasley family, most of them inspired by the comments about Arthur Weasley that his father had taken to making at the dinner table almost every night.
Draco always sneered and smirked in all the right places whenever his father launched into an anti-Weasley speech, but really he preferred the conversations with his father that were more focused on interesting topics such as Quidditch or even the latest news in the Daily Prophet.
Oh well, if he managed to get a reaction out of Potter with a comment about the Weasleys, then he knew that it would have been worth the endurance.
He had some interesting new insults about Granger too, they were sure to get some kind of reaction even if the Weasley comments didn't. Draco had long since worked out that insulting one of Potter's friends was a guaranteed way of getting his attention, so he planned on exploiting this fact for the next year. If he could just get to that crucial point where Potter finally lost it and lunged at him…
As he calmed down slightly and continued to turn the pages of the book, he decided that maybe it didn't matter too much if he didn't see Potter today. After all, he had the whole school year to torment him.
He would definitely try to find him on the train on the way to school, although he would have to take Crabbe and Goyle with him for some 'moral support'.
Failing that, he could always give him some kind of strange look from across the tables of the Great Hall during the Welcome Feast. He had noticed that the staring sometimes had a better effect on Potter than the insults when it came to making him look nervous and suspicious. However, this wasn't always the best option as the staring also made Draco feel uneasy; especially those annoying moments when he realised several seconds too late that he was actually doing it.
Perhaps the best option was to try to trip him up or throw some dangerous ingredient into his cauldron during Potions class; he highly doubted that Professor Snape would look too upset if this were to happen.
As though the book could read his mind, Draco turned to page three hundred and was greeted by the sight of a large picture of Harry Potter which took up almost half the page, followed by what appeared to be recently updated information about his triumph over the Dark Arts. This led Draco's thoughts into asking even more bitter questions about what Harry Potter had actually done to achieve his fame.
Draco had thought about this a lot since he had first met Harry Potter, but still the only two 'achievements' that he could conjure up were some fluke when he was a baby and the fact that he had taken -no not taken- stolen the House Cup from Slytherin this year.
He tried to read some of the information at the end of the page but his eyes were drawn back to the photograph. He felt nauseous as he suddenly had a mental image of Potter's female fans at Hogwarts sticking that same picture on their dormitory walls. He was deeply appreciative of the fact that he was in Slytherin House and shared a dormitory with four other boys, as it meant that he was unlikely to ever have to bear witness to such a disturbing event. He decided though that if anyone in Slytherin dared to try something like that then they would no longer be a friend of Draco Malfoy's.
The squealing from the witches downstairs seemed to be getting even louder. Lockhart must be due to arrive at any second. Draco wished that he was allowed to do magic outside of school so that he could cast some sort of Silencing Charm. Although a part of him actually wanted to hear Lockhart's awful entrance speech so that he could repeat it to his fellow Slytherins when they arrived back at school.
He closed the brown book with a loud bang and thrust it back onto the shelf.
He moved along to the books on the next shelf, hoping that he could find something to distract himself from his bad mood. However, he soon realised that these books were probably even worse than the previous ones. They all seemed to have either pink or lilac covers and some of them were even covered with pictures of bows or hearts.
He suppressed a sneer of disapproval and grabbed hold of a book with a light blue cover. It had barely touched his hand before he dropped it quickly to the floor. His father had prohibited him from reading that particular book. He wasn't sure why exactly, as far as he knew it was simply full of stories for young witches and wizards, but his father had said something about pro-Muggle sentiments and told him never to borrow it from the Hogwarts library. Even though his father was notably absent, he didn't dare defy him. He wiped his hands on his robes, as though the smell of the book would linger on his skin and give him away.
He eventually found a thick book with a dark red cover that had to be more interesting than the pink-covered books. But he was quickly disappointed as he read the title written in gold letters across the front: Charming Wizards.
Draco highly doubted that any book with the words 'charming' and 'wizards' in the title would be of any use to him, but for some reason he opened the book and started to examine the pages.
It seemed to be some sort of guide for witches to help them ensure a successful relationship. He was almost shocked at the detail the book went into. The first few pages contained advice about everything from the correct dress robes to wear to suggestions about the most romantic places to dine in villages like Hogsmeade and even strict warnings against any sort of manipulation of feelings with love spells.
It went on and on like this, page after page of advice. Draco was almost laughing now, much to his surprise.
Surely it wouldn't be that difficult to understand men? Personally, he had always found it fairly simple-if you wanted them to respect you, you intimidated them with aggressive and threatening behaviour (it helped to have strong people around you at the same time to back you up), if you wanted them to like you, you impressed them by boasting about your wealth, heritage and pure-blood status, if you wanted to get on their nerves, you found out what their insecurities were and brought them up constantly in conversation (say for example they had a scar in the middle of their forehead that they were self-conscious about, you made sure that you made reference to said scar at every opportunity).
As he got further into the book, the focus shifted from dress robes and potions to more in-depth studies focusing on the inner workings of the mind. Draco wasn't really paying attention; he had been temporarily distracted by thinking up new nicknames for Potter that somehow incorporated references to his scar.
However, his eyes eventually locked on a section of chapter thirteen entitled Repressed Attraction. He wasn't sure why exactly, but he started reading the first paragraph:
If for some reason a wizard is prevented, either physically or emotionally, from expressing his feelings of attraction or admiration to the object of his affections, these feelings may manifest themselves in more alarming or negative ways, possible examples being…
Draco started to turn the page but at the last second he went back to that paragraph where these 'alarming' ways of expressing attraction were listed, one after the other. Deciding that he might find something amusing in this paragraph to use against some of his fellow students, he carried on reading.
The list seemed endless: Easily provoked into anger merely by the mention of your name….whipping their wand out at you in a seemingly threating manner for no apparent reason…intense jealousy of those who are close to you…Draco thought he could hear somebody announcing Lockhart's arrival downstairs but he couldn't bring himself to stop reading. Standing unnaturally close to you, sometimes in an aggressive stance, as a way of maintaining some sort of physical contact…trying to provoke your anger or any kind of reaction, especially if you are ignoring them...constantly appearing in the same location as you, trying to make it look as though they have simply Apparated there by pure coincidence…
Draco finally tore his eyes away from the page and shook his head in exasperation. What kind of wizard would go to all the trouble of following somebody around obsessively? Surely it would be so obvious?
He closed the book and let it slide down to the floor. Even though he kicked it away and thought about how boring it was, he was unable to shake off a troubling image of some future girlfriend reading huge books like the one that was currently on the ground, as she tried desperately to understand what he was thinking. Or even worse, what if he was the one who sat in his dormitory every night reading similar books about her? That would be such a waste of valuable free time that could be better spent trying to beat Potter at Quidditch.
He sighed heavily. All in all, his half hour hidden away in Flourish and Blotts had not been a productive one.
Lockhart's voice was now loud and clear: "It can't be Harry Potter?"
Draco froze for a second and then practically ran towards the balcony.
Surely not? He wasn't really down there, was he? That would be too predictable. He leaned as far forward as he could. Sure enough, there he was, currently being dragged towards Lockhart by a Daily Prophet photographer.
Draco watched as Lockhart snaked an arm around the boy's shoulder, getting ready to pose for a picture. How pathetic.
He was overcome by the strong feelings of anger and resentment that only Harry Potter could provoke.
Draco's expression changed from a sneer to a snarl as his eyes moved slowly from the excited photographer to the equally excited crowd, who were looking at Harry Potter with barely disguised adoration.
He could at least have combed his hair and washed the dirt off his face.
Draco felt disgusted that his thoughts were focusing on such a trivial thing as Potter's appearance at such an awful moment.
He overheard Lockhart joking about the fact that the picture was sure to make the front page the next day. Draco had the sudden urge to hit somebody, although surprisingly that somebody was Lockhart rather than Potter.
He would make sure that he stole his parent's copy of the Daily Prophet the next morning though; he could have a good laugh with Crabbe and Goyle when he showed it to them on the Hogwarts Express.
He knew that really he should move away from all of this, but in that moment some mysterious force kept him standing there, mesmerized by the whole sickening spectacle.
After what felt like a lifetime, he saw Potter move off the stage and attempt to push through the crowd to get to the back of the shop. Draco darted away from the balcony and headed down the stairs.
He stopped halfway down, deciding that he would wait until Potter came closer before heading all the way down there. That way, he could make it look as though he had come across him in the shop by accident.
As Draco stood there waiting on the stairs, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that there was another copy of the same brown Defence Against the Dark Arts book that he had been reading upstairs displayed right next to the banister. Without thinking, he reached over for it. What page was it again? Oh yes…
He found page three hundred and stood there looking at the picture for a few seconds.
Suddenly, Potter and various members of his Weasley-Granger fan club were walking right past him. He had no clue whatsoever as to what possessed him to do it, but in one swift motion, he tore the page clean out of the book and stuffed it into his pocket before anyone, Potter especially, could notice what he had done.
Forgetting about everything that he had just read upstairs, he hurried down the rest of the steps and stalked towards them, hoping that he looked intimidating.
The insults were already falling from his lips before he had had the chance to plan them out.
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" I know I did.
He had no idea where the last four words of that insult had just come from, but as his hand gripped tightly around the piece of parchment in his pocket and he moved on to his 'famous Harry Potter' comment, he hoped more than anything that he had only said them in his head.
