A few steps from the entrance of Flourish and Blotts, there's a display table full of Hogwarts required books, and standing opposite that table from Draco Malfoy is a dark-skinned girl with an enormous amount of hair. A Muggle-born. It's her humdrum outfit, jean shorts and a loose t-shirt, that gives her status away.
Feeling rebellious, angry at his father for earlier denying him a Nimbus 2000, Draco makes a snap decision: he'll speak with this Muggle-born. And if he's lucky, Mother, who he's meant to meet at Flourish and Blotts, will catch him in the act. She'll scold him for not behaving as a Pure-blood ought to behave, and then she'll report it all back to Father. And Father, Draco muses, will learn not to refuse his only child, his heir, the latest racing broom.
"You'll want to add Hogwarts: A History to your list," he says, closing the distance between himself and the girl.
"Sorry? Hogwarts -"
"It's not required, but for someone like you, it'll -"
"Someone like me?" the girl interjects, irritation and amusement in her voice, a forced smile on her face.
"Someone without family members who can tell them what to expect."
There's a beat of silence. The girl's searching for confirmation of offense. But Draco's tone, his expression, is impassive not hateful. "Is it obvious?" she asks after a moment. "That I'm not -"
Draco looks pointedly at the girl's outfit. She looks down at herself then back at him.
"But you're -" She gestures at Draco. But before she can finish suggesting his perfectly tailored khakis, tucked in button-down, and expensive dragonhide loafers are similar to her own outfit, Draco attempts clarification.
"Let me put it this way," he says, "not even the Weasleys wear collarless shirts in public."
The girl doesn't know who the Weasleys are, of course, but the overall message is clear.
"Well, thanks so much," she huffs. "You've been really helpful." She turns and heads for the nearest aisle of books.
Draco's first instinct is to follow the girl. Not because of the Nimbus 2000 or his plan to teach Father a lesson. He's already forgotten those things. What he's thinking about now is more convoluted: the girl doesn't seem so bad, not as bad as he'd expected a Muggle-born to be anyway. Maybe if he followed her, spoke with her a little longer… The possibilities both excite and frighten Draco, which is reason enough to deny his instincts. He remains near the display table until Mother arrives.