Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.
Author's Note: I know I said my next fic would be Draco/Hermione (Sang Pur), but this story came to me and I'm going to write it first. I will then submit my D/Hfollowed by Scarlet Fever. Thank you, and if you have no idea what I'm talking about or if you just don't care, roll wit it bitches! --Phoenix D.
Summary: Draco and Pansy, first year through sixth. Het in later chapters.
Introduction
"Make lots of friends," Mrs. Parkinson said, kissing her daughter on the forehead. She put her mouth to Pansy's ear and said in a low voice, "Friends of the right kind." Pansy nodded; she understood completely. A girl raised in such high prestige need not be told this, for the blood not only ran in her veins, but it had surrounded her since birth.
Pureblood.
As every member of her family before her, Pansy was sorted into Slytherin, which presented the task of making "blood-worthy" friends as much easier. Many purebloods were sorted into Slytherin, as Salazar Slytherin himself most wanted them. In fact, the only well-known pureblood family Pansy knew that wasn't in Slytherin was the Weasleys, whose ginger hair belonged in Gryffindor. Pansy knew better than to associate herself with them.
The first friend Pansy made was Millicent Bulstrode.
"I have two very well-known brothers!" Millicent boasted. "They are very rich, too! Do you have any brothers?"
"No."
"It doesn't matter. I've heard good things about your family. Purebloods, they are."
"Yes."
"My family speaks very highly of yours."
Millicent went on about all of the good families she knew.
"Crabbe, Malfoy, Goyle…" she counted off. "You'll get to know all of them."
Pansy already knew of these families, of course, as she herself was one of them; however, she hadn't really heard of Bulstrode that much, she noted.
As they were escorted to the Common Room by the Prefect, Pansy spotted through the noisy crowd one of the boys Millicent had mentioned: "Draco Malfoy is the most popular first year…" His white-blonde hair was not hard to miss.
On the first night of that year, the first years gathered around the fire to exchange stories about various things, from summer adventures to family prestige.
"My mother is a famous supermodel," Blaise Zabini said. Draco smirked.
"My mother is a Black," he said. "But anyway, will any of you try out for Quidditch? Of course, first years never make the team—we're not even allowed our own brooms!—but next year? Father says I'm a right flyer." He leaned back in his chair. "I agree."
"I think I'll try out," Millicent said.
"Oh yeah, are you any good then?" Draco asked, but he changed the subject before giving her a chance to answer. "Knew I'd be in Slytherin, my entire family has been."
He locked eyes with Pansy.
"What about you?" he asked.
"What about me?"
"Did you know you'd be in Slytherin? Your family is pureblood, isn't it? You're a Parkinson?"
"Yes," Pansy said, lifting her chin as if daring him to challenge her. But he didn't. He just smiled slightly and joined in another conversation concerning Quidditch.
Pansy, Millicent, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy became a bit of a clique that first year at Hogwarts. The quintet did everything together—from studying to bullying to resting on the warm spring lawn.
Millicent, however, had taken an interest in Draco quite quickly.
"My parents are friends of the Malfoys," she would boast. "Oh, there he is! Draco! Did you see Potter today? He looks extra stupid, doesn't he?"
Draco gave her a look. "He always does." He glanced past Millicent over to Pansy. "Hey, Parkinson!"
And that's the way it was that first year.
On the last day of school, when the Hogwarts Express arrived back at Platform 9 and ¾, Draco shook Pansy's hand.
"Come around this summer," he told her. "Your family is welcome at the Manor."