**Author's Note: This is one of the many things that has been distracting me. I wrote this prologue while I was trying to get inspired for my other story. Please R & R. That you!**
"I am English."
"You don't sound English."
"That's because my parents are American."
"Then how can you be English?" She was sure if she had to explain this to one more person she was going to kill them. Really wouldn't be a stretch.
"Listen, you useless waste of space, I'm a third year and you just came off the boat. It would be best if you kept to yourself before you find yourself covered in flesh eating insects or something." She smiled a sticky sweet smile and the short irritating boy and turned got up from the Slytherin table to move to more interesting company.
As she made her way down the table her eye was caught by a slight, blond boy. He seemed familiar. She stood for a moment behind the second year that sat across the table from him. When the girl proved to be too busy chattering to notice her she cleared her throat loudly. The smaller girl looked up at her and her eyes widened with appropriate horror. She really couldn't wait to get the firsties trained.
"I believe you're in my seat." The girl just nodded in agreement as she got up from the bench. "Now, what, poor second year, should your punishment be?"
"I-I don't know, Miss Mirabella, b-but I'm sure it will be exactly what I deserve. I'm so sorry. I didn't know." She smiled at the younger girl with an evil smile that she'd been told only her family could make. She sat down and looked up to be greeted by a very similar smile on the face across the table. This of course made her forget about the unfortunate trembling girl begging for forgiveness.
"Hello, cousin." Confusion flashed across his face. "Well, I assume you are pureblood. We're all related in this area, aren't we?"
"You're not English."
"I'm sick of having this conversation." She sighed in annoyance. "I was born here, to a pureblood family. I was adopted by an American pureblood family. I AM English I just talk like a Yank." She stretched her hand out. "Mirabella Noir, third year."
"Draco Malfoy, first year." He took her hand firmly. "You seem to have made a place for yourself here."
"And you, I'm sure, are on your way, pretty little Malfoy." She flashed him a smile. "Friends, then, cousin?" She held her hand out across the table. He nodded and took her hand, unaware of the agreement he was making.