I apologise for the first posting of this; it seems strange things happened to my document, and the paragraph indents did not survive the process. Hopefully, we shall fare better this time.
Of course, I own none of the children, except for Dia Crabbe; the Malfoy family, the Crabbes and Goyles belong to JK Rawlings, may she keep them happy and safe and treat them fairly. Dia Crabbe is a shameless self-insertion; I invite anyone willing to spot the Sue, to do so. And have fun at it.
Enjoy.
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His blonde hair was perfectly in place after ten minutes of careful combing, and Draco Malfoy felt quite content with himself. He wished he had hair as long as fathers, but he had been told Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had a strict dress code, and his hair was already a bit too long.
The boy carefully knotted his tie and smiled at himself in the mirror; before nightfall, the neutral grey tie would be exchanged for one striped in silver and green, the colors of Slytherin House. Or at least he hoped so. They said no one could really know what house they would be sorted into before arriving at Hogwarts, but Draco fancied he had a pretty good idea of where he would go. After all, father had been in Slytherin, grandfather had been in Slytherin, and mother…Well, mother had not gone to Hogwarts, but if she had, Draco was sure she would have been in Slytherin too.
With that reassuring thought, he left his room, slamming the door behind him and rushed down the stairs for breakfast, thinking of all the boring things he would have to do before boarding the 11.00 Hogwarts Express. First, he would have to go to Madam Malkin's for a cape fitting, then walk up and down Diagon Alley to buy books and a wand…well, hopefully, his parents cold handle those details. As for Draco, all he was looking forward to was checking out the new racing brooms. He had heard that Nimbus had used the opening of the school year to launch their new model, and he was really anxious to see it. Perhaps even convince father to buy it?
Draco smirked to himself. Not likely, as father was rarely persuaded to do anything he did not really want to do – and then of course, the broom would have to be smuggled in, which was even more difficult. It was really stupid of headmaster Dumbledore not to allow first year students to have their own racing brooms. More adjustments designed to make children of non-magical families feel comfortable, no doubt, he thought, walking into the kitchen and glancing expectantly around.
Three house elves went out of their way to accommodate the boy – one pulled his chair away from the table, then pushed it back under after he sat; another hastily fetched a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, while a third poured maple syrup over the four perfectly circular pancakes on Draco's plate.
'Is Master pleased?' one of the tiny pinkish creatures inquired nervously. Draco took a few seconds of consideration before answering 'Could've been done quicker, I think.', and the elf hung its head in defeat.
The three elves aligned themselves to the boy's right, watching him eat and swallowing dry; the sweet smell of the pancakes only served to remind them that their last meal had been the previous day's lunch. Three bald heads bobbed simultaneously, as the house elves' watched their master's son cut the pancakes methodically into equal size bites, then slowly transport each bite from the plate into his mouth.
It took Draco a few minutes to realize that his gestures were so hungrily watched, and when he finally looked up, he noticed that the grey clad elves were all but about to faint. He frowned, slightly raising an eyebrow. His fork lingered in mid air, the small piece of sweet pastry dripping syrup onto the plate below, and holding the attention of the three critters as if it had been the world's largest gem.
'Do you want some of this, then?' he asked, making the elves exchange questioning yet expectant glances. 'How about you, Dobby?'
After being slightly nudged by its companions, one of the elves took a tentative step towards its master. The tip of its long nose wiggled slightly, taking in the delicious aroma – Draco lowered his fork just a fraction, and, still not unsure whether his empty stomach was getting the better of his imagination, the elf stretched its neck as far as it could.
The fork was almost within touch now; Dobby looked up at Draco, then, encouraged by the innocent and reassuring expression on the boy's face, reached out to take the piece of pancake…just as the fork drifted out of his reach and carried the pastry into Draco's mouth.
'Silly elf!' the boy giggled. 'You actually believed me!'
Long pointy ears and long pointy noses drooped in dismay, as Dobby returned to his place in line with an utterly humiliated expression on his face. He should not have expected more kindness from the child than he expected from the parents, the elf thought, and sighed deeply.
Not really hungry and still snickering to himself at the prank he had pulled on his servants, Draco pushed the bits and pieces of pancake around the plate for a few minutes longer; just as he fancied he had arranged them into a pretty good likeness of a racing broom, he heard his mother's voice calling from behind.
'Still not done with breakfast, Draco? Your father is already dressed and in the parlor.'
'The elves delayed me, mother,' the boy quickly responded, putting the fork down. 'And they wanted some of my breakfast…Spoiled my appetite, really.'
'Is that so?' The three critters cuddled against each other and all but shrieked in fright when Narcissa Malfoy sharply turned towards them. 'How many times have a told you not to bother Draco at mealtimes?'
The woman scrutinized the shaking elves for a few moments, then decided she would have ample time to punish their lack of deference after she returned from the train station. It would have been a pity to spoil the last moments with her child for the sake of these wretched creatures; she gestured for the elves to scatter and turned to face her son, the sweetest of smiles lighting her features.
Narcissa was beautiful and delicate enough to have been a porcelain doll; her hair was almost white, and the fact that she wore it in a tight braid only served to accentuate the graceful curve of her alabaster skinned neck. Blue eyes, dark and clear as a mid-winter night descended lovingly upon her son.
'Cuddles,' the boy demanded in a soft, dreamy voice, his arms shooting up and circling his mother's shoulders when the woman leaned to comply with his request.
'Make me and you father proud,' she whispered into Draco's ear, and the boy nodded eagerly, his tiny hands hiding in the heavy dark laces of Narcissa's robes. Impatient tapping coming from the parlor interrupted the embrace soon enough, however – and the woman straightened her back, giving her son a last approving glance.
'You are very handsome,' she said, barely refraining from ruffling Draco's neatly arranged hair. 'Let's go find you a befitting cape.'
Diagon Alley was full of bustle and noise; the beginning of the school year was the busiest and most profitable time of the year for its many merchants. The finest makers of wands, tailors and booksellers kept shop here, along with sellers of all potions and creatures magical. Children of various ages clad in dark uniforms moved excitedly from storefront to storefront, closely followed by equally excited parents, most of which were bent under the weight of many neatly wrapped packages.
The Nimbus store front, which lay to the right hand side of the exotic animals shop, was by far one of the busiest windows; the launching of their newest racing broom models had caused much enthusiasm among youngsters, and, as excited youngsters could hardly be expected to be quiet, the chaotic atmosphere could not but take its toll on the animals near by. Among the shrill protesting cries of owls, enraged meowing of cats and the crystal clear voices of the children admiring the sleek broom in the window, however, one accent sounded out with amazing clarity.
'But, father…' Draco whined, 'you said yourself that it is unfair for first year students not to have their own brooms!'
'Thank professor Dumbledore, and all the muggle born children who don't know how to fly one.' Lucius Malfoy replied dryly, eyeing his son as if he had expected the child to decipher a message hidden beneath the simple words.
'Please, father…' the boy began again; yet this time, his father's interruption was no longer simply dry.
'Do not plead in public,' Lucius hissed, the immediate nature of the command being reinforced by the fact the tip of his cane, a perfectly cast silver serpent, came to rest brusquely on Draco's shoulder.
The boy looked up at his father, yet the words had frozen on his lips and he protested no further. He had known his chances of getting his hands on the Nimbus 2000 were slim – and besides, the boy thought grudgingly, what was the point of getting a new racing broom if one could not fly it right away?
Slightly displeased by the turn out of the conversation, Narcissa leant forward to smooth out an invisible wrinkle in her son's new cape.
'There will be a new model next year. And I am sure your father will not refuse you or your house's quidditch team, should you be wanting for quality equipment then.' She offered.
'Of course not,' Lucius confirmed, with a slight nod. 'That is, of course, when and if he will be on the team.'
Narcissa's graceful neck arched as she turned to throw a sly wink at her husband. Both of them knew all too well that Draco was an exceptional quidditch player for one so young, and that if by bad fortune – or because of the blatant dislike Hogwarts' headmaster had shown the Malfoy family in recent years – the child would be denied his well deserved spot on the team, Lucius would promptly find a way to remedy the situation.
With a smile that resembled a complacency grimace more than an actual expression of mirth, Lucius offered Narcissa his arm, leading her away from the too busy and noisy shop window and into the narrow street. Draco followed his parents closely, not without throwing another disappointed glance at the Nimbus shop sign.
'I want to see the wand you got me,' he said, feeling tempted to tug his mother's sleeve, but bravely resisting the temptation. Narcissa gracefully handed Draco a small rectangular package, wrapped in elegant black parchment.
She had picked out the most expensive one 'Ollivander's' carried, a long, perfectly polished one with beautiful, miniature carvings on the handle. Narcissa thought the white wood matched her son's skin perfectly, and she watched in delight as Draco twirled the wand between his fingers for a few seconds. He looked absolutely adorable in his white shirt, grey mohair sweater and silver tie, his silky blonde hair perfectly combed…
But then, dark colored clothes and light colored hair had always been what best suited Malfoys; with an almost imperceptible smirk, Narcissa wondered whether she too had been a carefully chosen and perfectly matched accessory, but she chased the thought away. She knew very few men that were as handsome as Lucius was, and even fewer couples that looked as beautifully matched as they did.
She was quite proud to be seen on this tall, elegant man's arm – she liked the way his shoulders looked in the tight fitting black tunic, she liked to hear the imperceptible sound the soft leather of his glove made against the silver snake's body as the cane swung with Lucius' every step. His permanently narrowed eyes and the aquiline expression on his features had always made her feel important – Lucius dominated any environment he happened to cross, and his aura of strength was pleasantly reflected upon her, making up for many other inconveniences.
Like the company he sometimes kept.
Narcissa had always found Thomas Crabbe and the terribly common Mrs. Crabbe, whose first name she had not even tried to memorize, quite ghastly. It was not only their general un-wizardly appearance that bothered her, but everything about them seemed oddly out of place, and although she could not understand why, Narcissa had a hard time imagining a situation in which the Crabbe couple would actually feel at ease. Be it midsummer or the dead of winter, the man's forehead was constantly covered in a thin film of sweat, which he uselessly tried to wipe off with a brightly red cotton handkerchief; had she had a choice, Narcissa would have avoided extending her hand to him at any cost.
As it was, however, Lucius' work with the ministry of magic demanded the assistance of a few men with similar political convictions, and by virtue of his family's fortune and his own good reputation as a reliable and honorable clerk, Crabbe occupied an important enough position – so Narcissa lent her perfect alabaster fingers to the man's hurried kiss, and smiled, hoping that her expression conveyed as much as possible of her disgust and boredom.
'Mrs. Malfoy,' Thomas Crabbe panted, as if he had just crossed the finishing line of a ten mile run. 'It's always a pleasure.'
'Likewise,' she replied, quickly looking away from the man. Eager to demonstrate that she wanted as little to do with the Crabbes as she possibly could, the blonde woman extracted a golden wristwatch from her corset's pocket, and frowned at the position of the hands.
'It is already a quarter past ten, Lucius.'
She looked around, hoping that Draco was near by and would provide her with a perfect excuse to cut the meeting as short as possible; her son was paying no attention to her, however, preferring to annoy the cat of the Crabbes daughter by repeatedly slipping a piece of red ribbon inside its case and pulling it out as soon as the animal reached for it.
The cat was more than reasonably enraged; it twisted and meowed wildly, as if it had been rabid, and Narcissa was tempted to warn her son away from the black blotch of fur which was only slightly visible in the padded box.
'You'll get yours when Sigmund gets out,' the Crabbes' daughter warned with a light chuckle.
'Na, he really likes me,' Draco responded, crouching by the box the girl had set down. As if it had understood the boy's words, the cat emitted a long, furious meow, and reached out of the transport case, clearly trying to claw at Draco's hand. Surprised by the cat's movement, Draco pulled his hand back quickly, almost falling over; the animal meowed again, with a discernible note of triumph. To Narcissa's surprise, the boy laughed, and stood up without a single sign of irritation.
'Come on, Dia, let's go look at the Nimbus 2000 again,' Draco said, 'I'm not getting one this year, but mother said that father will get me an even better one next year…'
'Dia?' Narcissa jumped at the chance to draw her son near before he could once again disappear in the crowd in front of the broom store window. 'Where does it come from? I suppose that it isn't your true name, is it?'
Draco laughed, maliciously cranking his nose at the girl's sudden embarrassment.
'It comes from Diamanda Eulalie,' Thomas Crabbe explained with a fair amount of pride. Narcissa could not hide her surprise, and looked up at her husband with an expression that almost conveyed fright. In response, Lucius smiled – for the first time with genuine amusement – and even produced a slight shrug.
'Come here, Dia darling, and say hello,' Mrs. Crabbe said; the girl approached, and curtsied semi-gracefully.
'Good day, Mrs. Malfoy…Mr. Malfoy.'
Diamanda Eulalie Crabbe looked quite common – a pretty child, Narcissa thought, with slim chances of ever growing beautiful. She was a little taller than Draco, which was quite normal at eleven; judging by the fact that Dia was almost as tall as her mother, plump and even showing good signs that she would have an impressive chest, it was clear that the girl had already had her growth spur and would not change much in the following years. The girl's hair was a shiny, but quite common shade of brown, held back by a broad blue band which boasted excessive golden thread embroidery.
'Hello, Diamanda Eulalie,' Lucius responded to the child's greeting, pronouncing her full name just for the pleasure of watching his son coil with giggles somewhere in the back of the group.
Completely insensitive to the ironic undertone in the man's voice, Dia blushed visibly after looking up at Lucius, and Narcissa barely withheld a chuckle. She was used to the effect her husband's good looks and posture had on women, but it was rare to see it so clearly and innocently expressed.
'We should hurry to the station. And go inside somewhere to get the children into muggle clothes.' Narcissa said, to no one in particular.
'Indeed, Mrs. Malfoy, indeed,' Crabbe hurried to reply, 'We are to meet the Goyle family at half past ten, on the train platform.'
'Since the children are going to start school in the same year, I thought it would be a good idea to see that they are seated together on the Hogwarts Express.' Lucius explained to his wife's sudden scowl. As much as Narcissa disliked the Crabbes, she hated the Goyles. Yet, Lucius must have had his reasons for wanting Draco to arrive at Hogwarts with an already formed following, and perhaps it was for the best.
The small group started slowly down the street, Dia's eyes still hypnotically fixed on Lucius Malfoy.
'Did you see the new Nimbus, though?' Draco insisted, and the girl shook her head in annoyance.
'You know I don't play quidditch,' she answered, quickening the pace to catch up with the adults and the object of her attention.
'I know you don't play, but I think it's plain stupid. I for example am very sure I will be on my house's team in the second year; even father said they would be crazy not to pick me…How can you not play quidditch?' the boy protested. 'You are odd, I must say, and you're not the only one; at madam Malkin's just now there was another boy who didn't even know what quidditch was. That was not the only weird thing about him, either, he was here getting his supplies with Hagrid, a servant from Hogwarts…'
'You met Harry Potter?'
The girl's brown eyes widened in such honest surprise that Draco had to believe it was not a prank.
'That was Harry Potter? Really? He looked kind of wimpy and common…and how can you know it was Harry Potter? I mean, my father would have told me…'
'Everyone but you knew that Harry Potter is starting school this year.' Dia declared, with obvious triumph. For an instant, Draco's lips pursed together tightly, as the boy's pretty face twisted to a menacing frown.
'You fancy my father!' he said, after a few seconds of thought, and judging by the scarlet shade of Dia's cheeks, the arrow had hit the mark.
'I most certainly do not!' she futilely protested.
'Yes you do.'
Draco was positively glowing with delight.
'Liar, you couldn't take your eyes off him, and you were as red as a Gryfindor quidditch cape. Besides, if you weren't swooning over my father, how come you forgot Sigmund in the middle of the street?'
'Toad crap! He'll kill me!' Dia exclaimed, in a most unladylike fashion. As she turned and ran to recuperate her pet, Draco broke into laughter.
'You've Hufflepuff written all over you, Crabbe!' he cried after her.
'You wish, Malfoy!' she shouted in response, her words completed by a loud and horrible meow as the transport case almost jumped off the ground with the wild rattles of the animal inside.
Once Narcissa laid eyes on the Goyle's son, Lucius' reasons for wanting the three children to travel together became very obvious; the boy was huge and built like a brick wall, broad shoulders and thick neck completed by an utterly sheepish expression. Next to him – and the rather strongly built Crabbe girl – Draco looked twice smaller and more delicate than he actually was. Somehow, Narcissa decided, seeing her son flanked by these other two children gave her a feeling of safety. Goyle especially had the air of a bulldog waiting to bounce, and by the fact his lower lip hung in amazement every time Draco said anything, it was clear he would be at the young Malfoy's beck and call.
The train had already pulled in at the platform, and the children's luggage had been loaded into the compartment, all except the Crabbe girl's cat, whose meowing had died down to menacing snarls and hisses.
'Will you be letting it…him out on the train?' Narcissa inquired, with some concern. Dia nodded. 'Isn't he dangerous? I mean, you could lose him.' She quickly corrected herself.
'No, he just doesn't like to be boxed.'
'Or touched,' Draco snickered. 'Or petted, or played with. Mostly anything that doesn't include biting and clawing.'
'I can touch Sigmund,' Dia heartily protested.
'Yes, and you've just the scars to prove it.'
Narcissa shuddered at the thought of that horrible animal's claws digging into her son's flesh, and dearly regretted not paying more attention to the children Lucius chose to be Draco's play partners. Still, it was not as if the choices had been abundant; pure blood children were few and growing fewer, given this age's frivolous marriage policy. Love – the woman thought, frowning. Just another excuse to mix with muggles and ruin perfectly good bloodlines.
In the old days, marriage had been considered an institution, and rightly so; how anyone could think an institution could be funded on something as frivolous as love was beyond Narcissa's understanding.
A long whistle announced the train was setting to depart; Mrs. Crabbe had begun saying her farewells to her daughter, showering her with kisses and hugs which caused the child more than a little embarrassment. Though Narcissa would have liked giving her son a god bye kiss, the Crabbe's spectacle was so disgraceful that it discouraged any other show of affection.
'You three children take good care of each other, now,' Lucius said, the words clearly directed at the Goyle boy. 'And don't mingle with the wrong sort.'
'We won't, Mr. Malfoy,' Dia Crabbe promised instead of Goyle, who seemed so impressed by the fact that Lucius had addressed him, that he could find nothing to say.
'Now off you go.' Lucius added, dismissing the children with a swing of his cane in the direction of the train. 'Children are amusing but tiresome. Best not to give them too much attention – their mothers spoil them enough.' he said to Crabbe, who nodded though it was quite obvious that he didn't share Lucius' opinion in the least.
'Speaking of which, darling,' Lucius followed insidiously, turning towards his wife, 'I thought I heard our son shouting in the middle of the street a while ago.'
'You should have berated him yourself then,' Narcissa responded, a light blush ascending to her translucent cheeks.
'I would have, but I caught it too late; like dogs, I doubt children can really remember what they're being punished for unless one catches them right in the middle of doing it.'
It seemed Lucius enjoyed seeing that neither the Crabbes nor the Goyles dared contradict him. He smiled resplendently, and with a quick skillful swing, tucked his cane under his arm.
'Help me, Goyle!' Dia's voice called in irritation; the large boy, who had just climbed on the train, turned around and offered a dumb but obviously apologetic grin. The girl raised the cat's transport box, and in spite of the object's mad dangling, Goyle caught it and lifted it safely on the train.
'Would you two hurry up?' Draco snapped from behind. 'You should ease up on those sweets, Crabbe, you've grown an impressive bum.' He added, as the girl climbed the first step on the train's ladder.
'Nonsense, Malfoy, I am not fat. I am, er, voluptuously proportioned.'
'Yes, yes, keep telling yourself that,' Draco snickered. 'And hurry up.'
Just as the conductor closed the train door behind the three children, the platform clock's hands moved to show 11 sharp, and with a long hiss, the Hogwarts Express set into motion.
Left behind on the 9 and ¾ platform, Lucius Malfoy stared at the red train, which was quickly gaining speed, then, hit by a stray thought, frowned and turned towards Thomas Crabbe.
'Say, Crabbe, didn't you have a son?'
As if the question had sparked some distant memory, Crabbe frowned in his turn, trying to recall; by the image of utter confusion his sweat covered face had become, it was obvious that his effort had failed, and the man contented himself on responding with a helpless shrug.