A/N: Hey everyone. I would just like to assure you that my character is not a Mary Sue in any way. And I've tried hard not to deviate from Malfoy's character, and I think I partially succeeded. I think. Anyway. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed making it. I made this story purely for entertainment purposes, so you'll have to excuse any plot holes or whatever.

Draco Malfoy sidled next to them as they went through the ornate double doors into the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Hey, Potter – " he started to say, but Heather Parker cut him off.

"Yes, Malfoy, we all know what you're going to say. Hermione is a know-it-all mudblood, Ron wears hand-me-downs and is a blood traitor, and Harry associates with the lowest kind of riffraff instead of hanging out with you, boo hoo. Come back when you have something new, okay? And you look like a ridiculous prat with your hair. Run along now." She made a shooing motion with her hand, and all those present laughed raucously, the Gryffindors loudest. Ron reddened and surreptitiously smoothed out his robes.

"Good one, Heather!" Fred or George said from behind her, and thumped her on the back.

Malfoy shot her a malevolent look. "We're not finished, Parker."

"Whatever," she muttered to herself as he stalked away. She let herself be carried by the crush of bodies to the Gryffindor table, and ended up sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"That was good of you earlier, Heather," said Harry, smiling at her.

"Yeah, even though you were… uh…" Ron trailed off uncomfortably. "Anyway. Aren't your family friends with Malfoy?"

She wrinkled her brow. "Well, not really friends. We just get invited to the same parties and whatever." She poured cereal in her bowl, then milk. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it.

"Well?" Hermione prompted.

"Well what?" she asked, spooning cereal into her mouth.

"You were going to say something," said Hermione, biting into a muffin.

Heather ate more cereal, considering. The three of them ate their breakfast, waiting for her. "They're a boring lot, but there are some stuff going on with them that I'm not interested in knowing."

"Stuff?" asked Ron eagerly. "Like what?"

"Haven't you been listening, Ron?" Hermione rebuked. "Now hurry up, or we're going to be late." She finished off her muffin with milk.

"Hermione, Charms is still fifteen minutes away," Harry said reasonably. "And we've only been eating for three minutes."

"Yes, but I have to set an example as Head Girl," argued Hermione. "Besides, I want to get some studying done."

"Unbelievable," Ron muttered.

Heather ducked her head behind her hair – it was times like these that having long hair was handy – and tuned out the clanking of spoons against plates, and the indistinct noise and rumble of voices. She stared at her bowl while eating, her mind blissfully blank. After a few moments, there was a tug on her sleeve.

"Heather, aren't you coming?" asked Hermione.

"Oh," she said, taken aback by the invitation. "Uh… you guys go on ahead. I'm not finished yet," she said without thinking, and then hated herself for it. She wanted to go with them, she wanted to have a circle of friends, but she didn't want to look eager or inconsistent, so she smiled at them.

"If you're sure," Harry said. "We'll save you a seat."

She beamed at him, feeling touched. "I'd like that. Yes, please. Thanks."

Not long after they left, the owls came. She recognized their white great horned owl from home. It dropped a letter on her cereal, then flapped its wings and clucked its beak insistently. "Yes, yes, Augustine," she cooed, stroking its head. She took the letter and offered the bowl to it. "Sorry I don't have a proper treat for you." Augustine hooted once irritably, and flew away.

She opened the opened the envelope and inside found her mother's large, cursive handwriting, and another thicker envelope. She read her mother's letter first.

Darling,

Just got an owl yesterday from the Zabinis. You go to school with Blaise, wasn't it? His sister Deirdre is getting married this Christmas and we're invited. I'll be shopping for dresses later to get it out of the way. Darling, please say you'll come! I'll get dreadfully bored without you making snarky remarks.

Dad wants to go to Italy for Christmas vacation. I know we already went there, but Dad loves it so much, and you enjoyed yourself there, didn't you? He's already looking through Muggle timetables and guidebooks. He says he wants to go there by train the Muggle way. Muggles pay a lot for the scenic route, but it's worth it. We'll reserve that villa from last time and walk all over the place.

Love,

Mum

She grinned to herself, piling her dark brown hair on one shoulder. She could imagine her mother writing the letter at the breakfast table, cigarette in one hand, and pineapple juice in front of her, before she went to work at the Department of International Magical Cooperation of the Ministry. She put the letter on the table and took out the heavy envelope that was the invitation to Deirdre Zabini's wedding. It gave off an aroma of vanilla.

Deirdre Zabini was six years older than her, and was wild, tactless, and generous, and Heather loved her for that. Being members of prominent families, they attended the same social functions and parties. Deirdre would always pull her away from whatever party they were attending to smoke, even if Heather didn't. They would talk about boys and Hogwarts professors and just about anything they could think of. They didn't talk when they were in Hogwarts, though, Deirdre being in her last year when she just entered. And after she graduated, they never saw each other again, except for a brief glimpse at a Christmas party at the Zabinis', but they intermittently kept in touch by owl.

Now just twenty-two, and already going to be married! Heather marveled. She thought it would have taken Deirdre more time to settle, but apparently not. Now she was going to be married to Jefferson Pritchard, whose brother Graham was three years behind her, a third-year Slytherin, and as every bit sleazy and malevolent as his fellow Slytherins, not least of them Malfoy.

She unfolded the invitation. It was printed in heavy perfumed paper, and there was a picture of the two of them, Deirdre leaning into him, and he smiling confidently into the camera. Asshole, she thought, not liking Jefferson Pritchard at first glance. She scanned the list of names, recognizing most of them. Of course all the prominent families were present. She tucked the invitation with her mother's letter, making a mental note to send back the invitation and a reply to her mother.

"Hey Parker," Malfoy sauntered over to her, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as always. "I like that look on you," he pointed to her hair piled on one shoulder. "You look like you're ready to be a wife, like Zabini's sister."

"I'm afraid I can't say the same about you, Malfoy. You look like a snooty, theatergoing homosexual. And an idiot," she added thoughtfully. "Where's your other pug-faced girlfriend?"

"What do you mean, other girlfriend?" his eyes narrowed.

"Why, aren't these two your girlfriends too?" she asked innocently, looking at Crabbe and Goyle.

"I came here to be civil, Parker," Malfoy snapped. "But it appears that your mother never raised you with any manners."

"And it appears that your mother never raised you with witty comebacks, and so you grew up to be a sore loser," she replied coolly. "Run along now, go on." She stood up.

"What, going to hex me?" sneered Malfoy.

She looked at him with disdain. "Don't be silly, Malfoy. I'm going to class. Unless you want to walk with me."

"I'd rather swim with the giant squid." He turned around and stalked away.

She walked off in the other direction, leaving her half-full bowl of cereal and completely missing the looks of approval and awed whispering among the Gryffindors.