Chapter 1 –
Eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy walked out of Ollivander's with his brand new wand. He was slightly confused as to why the old man had worn such an odd, almost surprised expression as he announced that the wand which had chosen "The young Master Malfoy" was made of Hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair. Nevertheless, Draco merely placed his wand in the leather sheath his mother had bought for him. It made him feel very grown up, like his father, who had one very similar.
"Come along, Darling," came the soft, almost bell-like voice of his mother. She was several strides ahead of him and he hurried to catch up. They made their way towards the shop where his father was no doubt impatiently waiting to meet them so they could leave this part of Diagon, which seemed to be overflowing with families shopping for school supplies. He knew that crowds, especially those containing excessive numbers of children, grated on his father's nerves.
It seemed to Draco that the only two children he had ever seen his father interact with in an open and affectionate manner were himself and his best friend Blaise. While others might have seen the man as harsh and cold, Draco knew him to be quite the opposite, at least with those few who held the man's respect and love. This was the mindset his father had raised him to understand. Of all those you meet, care for only a few. However, once you have chosen those few, do whatever you must to keep and to protect them.
Draco had realized as he had gotten older that it was this philosophy which had allowed his father to protect both him and his mother during the Dark War. Draco had heard people question the things his father had done during the War. He had heard them call him evil. But Draco knew that this opinion was not true. He wondered what they themselves would have done in his father's place. Everyone knew the story of the Boy-Who-Lived and how both of his parents had been killed trying to protect him. He knew that if it came down to it, his father would have done the same thing to protect his family. However, he could not imagine growing up without his father and was glad, proud even, that his father had been able to use his wits to avoid the same fate as the famous Potter family. It was with these thoughts in his mind that Draco followed his mother along the crowded street.
Just as they approached the bookstore where his father waited, Draco's attention was caught by a pair of boys a couple of years older than he was. He watched as they snuck up on a little girl and snatched something from her arms. She looked very much like they did, even more so as she set her jaw in irritation as their teasing continued. The two tossed the bundle back and forth between each other until one missed it and it landed in a heap next to where Draco stood. The two boys – Draco assumed they were the girl's older brothers – darted away laughing as the girl glared after them with her hands on her hips.
Draco bent down and retrieved what he now saw to be a small, somewhat ragged and clearly well loved doll off the ground and straitened up to return it to the little girl. He looked up as she whirled around to face him. The first thing that he noticed was how her vivid, fiery red hair flew around her face as she spun towards him. While her brothers' hair had seemed loud and shocking, much like their personalities appeared to be, the girl's hair looked deeper, warmer and reminded him of an open flame. The picture she made, all aggravation at her brothers, curiosity about the pale blond boy now holding her doll, her tiny stature and blazing hair brought to mind a picture he had once seen of a fire sprite. This impression, combined with the deep look in her soft brown eyes made him pause in his movements for just a second.
Seeing the cautious expression on her face, Draco was about to say something to comfort her when he got a better look at her as a whole. Other than her hair, he quickly took in the freckled cheeks, and the worn-looking robes the girl was wearing. Combining all of those features, the dingy doll he still held in his hand and the previous sight of at least two brothers he quickly realized who the little girl must be. Or at least what family she must belong to. His father had told him, rather disdainfully, about this pure-blood family who acted no better than muggleborns – worse even, if one considered the fact that they did not have the excuse of ignorance or weak muggle blood. The fire sprite was a Weasley.
At this realization, Draco wanted to drop the rags and hurry to his parents, who he noticed at that moment speaking with one of his father's associates a few paces away. He could not do it though. Despite the rather distressing realization of who the girl was, he found he could not simply react to her as he might to others who he saw as beneath him.
Just then in the midst of his confusion he heard his name called out again, this time by his father who was clearly readying himself to leave the crowded area. Hurriedly, Draco handed the doll gently but firmly back to the girl.
"Keep an eye on your surroundings and next time they might not be able to take your things, Sprite," he murmured as he passed by her and strode over to where his parents were waiting.
He did not think that they had seen the girl – the Sprite – as there was no derisive comments about "wizards without any self-respect" as usually accompanied the topic of the Weasleys. For that he was glad as he was already somewhat confused about their interaction. It was, however, forgotten fairly quickly when Blaise arrived later that afternoon and they discussed all of the amazing things they were simply sure would happen in the coming year at Hogwarts. It was not until later that night as he lay in his bed watching the flames flicker in the hearth across from his bed that his thoughts returned to the little girl just as he fell asleep.
The next morning he woke well rested, only vaguely remembering dreams about a little fire sprite with deep brown eyes.
Ginevra Weasley watched as the elegant lady passed by her and headed towards the store where her mum was currently attempting to help the youngest of her brothers, Ron, find his first year school books. The store had been too crowded for her and entirely too much temptation for her trouble-making twin brothers, the next ones up from Ron. Because of this her mother had suggested that the three of them and their father should wait outside where less damage to the bookseller's property could be committed. This arrangement suited Ginevra just fine. She enjoyed watching people, often seeing things that others seemed to miss while at the same time getting drawn into little details and missing some things that were so obvious to a more casual observer.
She was sure that her mother's thoughts had leaned towards the idea that, as their father, Ginevra's dad could keep them out of trouble. However, he was soon talking with a friend of his who was similarly stationed outside to wait for wife and children to complete their shopping. Seeing his distraction the twins seized upon the slightest hint of a lull in supervision. While she was distractedly watching the graceful way in which the blonde women walked as she passed by, Ginevra suddenly felt the doll in her arms snatched away.
She whirled to find Fred, the twin on her right, brandishing the swaddled bundle and a wide grin on his face. As she grabbed to take it back Fred swiftly tossed it over her head to George, the other smirking twin. It was not unusual for them to play these kinds of games at home, out of their mother's sight of course, but it was usually Ron or Percy, the next brother above them, who were the targets. Ron had a short fuse and they took great pleasure and in setting it off while Percy had the tendency to be a prat in general and they enjoyed messing with his carefully planned out existence.
It was likely only their boredom after having to behave long enough to collect their own list of schoolbooks that let them forget why they did not usually pick her as their target. Though she was much younger, only ten in a few days, her temper was not usually something that even these two brothers made a habit of setting off. Though less explosive than Ron's and far less amusing than Percy's, Ginevra's temper tended to run at a slow boil. It took more to truly make her mad but once really irritated she tended to hold on to a grudge and was pretty wicked with her revenge. After all, she had been well taught by the twins themselves the fine art of causing trouble without getting caught.
Apparently this had slipped their minds as the twins continued to play keep-away with her doll as Ginevra grew more irritated with each toss. This might have kept up for a long while had their father not caught what they were doing as he glanced over at them. Startled by their father's sharp call of "Fred! George!" they both whirled around, dropping the doll and laughing, and rushed off to find some other mayhem to create.
Ginevra stood in a creditable imitation of her mother when she dealt with the twins' foolishness – hands on hips and teeth clenched – when she heard someone close behind her in the general direction of where George had tossed her doll. She whirled around, afraid that the doll, her favorite toy, might be lost if she did not collect it. She was startled to see a boy straitening up from the ground, holding her toy. While she did not really think that a boy would want a doll, she was still nervous that he might take it simply to be mean like the twins had. It was not until she looked at his face that she was distracted from her concern.
Standing in front of her was possibly the most striking person she had ever seen. He was not exactly handsome, as some of her older friends described boys that they fancied, nor was he pretty. His features were too angular to be handsome or pretty, she thought, but not sharp enough to look awkward. His skin was pale, but not pallid. It looked the way her own might were it not for the freckles all over her nose and cheeks. It was, however, his hair and eyes that made his looks so very remarkable. Ginevra had never seen someone with such white blond hair. When his head tilted as he took her in, she noted that it almost appeared to shimmer with a silver tint. She had also never before seen eyes like his. From her frequent observations of people she knew it was not unusual to see many with blond hair and blue eyes, quite typical really. The difference with this boy was that his eyes were not blue but an ice grey, and like his hair had streaks of silver running through them. The overall impression she received between his eyes, hair and angular appearance was that of steel, or perhaps lightning.
The boy was looking at her with an expression somewhere between consideration and wariness. As she gazed back she supposed that the look on her face must probably mirror those same emotions. Just then a call came from somewhere behind her and she felt him gently push the doll back into her arms. When he walked past her he quietly and kindly reprimanded her about attending to what was happening around her in the future then moved to join a man and woman who must have been his parents. As it did not seem like he was trying to treat her like a baby with his suggestion, like Ron did when he bossed her around, she did not take offence. Her mother told her regularly that she needed to pay attention to what was happening around her. "You get so lost in your own head, my little Gin," she would say. "You need to know what's happening outside of it, too." She knew this was true and thought that this boy was not teasing, merely making an observation.
She stood and watched the boy and his parents – she realized that his mother was the lovely lady she had been admiring earlier – as they moved away down the street. Taking his suggestion, she did her best to stay more aware at what was happening around her and was able to notice the twins as they came up behind her.
"What are you looking at, Gin?" George questioned from her left.
"The Lightning Boy who picked up my doll for me. The doll that you dropped I might add," she answered with a hint of threat at the end.
"The lightning boy?" they both looked where she was watching and glanced at each other.
"If you mean the group of pasty-pale blonds walking away-" Fred started,
"Those are the Malfoys," finished George. "You should stay away from their lot."
"You've heard dad go on about them and what evil, slimy gits they all are," his twin reminded her.
Inwardly, Ginevra was completely surprised that the Lightning Boy who had been so intriguing and actually fairly polite to her had been a Malfoy. They were supposed to be horrible, icky people who thought that anyone not like them was below them. She was surprised but decided to withhold judgment on the youngest Malfoy until such a time as she saw more of him. In her examination of people she had learned that they are often not what you first assume and sometimes it just takes a while to understand who they really are.
"Well, Malfoy or no Malfoy, I think you two should get me a licorice wand," she told them with a calm authority that might have been amusing in an almost-ten-year-old had she not looked so very serious.
"And why, sister dearest-" began Fred,
"would we do that?" George finished.
"Because, brothers of mine, it's that or I tell mummy that you stole my doll and were being mean to me while she was in the store. Then this afternoon she might find out about that experiment up in your room under the loose floorboard…" she trailed off suggestively.
They both groaned and then fished in their pockets for enough change to buy her the requested treat. Really, they both knew that they were getting off rather easily from irritating her earlier. They were simply lucky that their sister was still mildly intrigued by her Lightning Boy and not in the mood to plot her usual level of vengeance. With the sweet in hand, Ginevra followed the rest of her family as they made their way home with their day's purchases.
Lying in her bed that night, she closed her eyes and dreamt of lightning.
AN: This is a rather long story and is still a WIP. I would love to have someone preread and/beta it for me if anyone is interested. I am already 19 chapters and well over 70,000 words in. I plan to update once a week at least, more if I get extra time to write. I gave myself a head start as I have a husband and an 8-month-old who are the loves of my life and take priority over writing. Let me know what you think! Reviews would definitely be motivating to write more after little one is down for the night and I'm tempted to just go to bed.