The circumstances: Draco's mum is a bit mad so she chose an unreasonable date to go shopping. There was a delay in delivering Harry's letter so he went on one of the last possible days instead. As a result... Draco and Harry meet in Flourish and Blotts instead, with a slightly out-of-it Draco!
Some characteristics: Narcissa seems crazy— or maybe she just has a split personality; Draco chooses not to know when to shut up— ah, wait, that's already a trait of his, isn't it?; and Ron's— well, I must say he's still Ron, but...
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. Some lines seen below are taken from HPSS.
I hope you enjoy reading! I know I enjoyed writing this.
Chapter 1:
Innocence, in a Sense
Life is always at some turning point.
~Irwin Edman
Lightly skimming a finger on the binds of dusty books shelved and forgotten years ago, Draco Malfoy sneezed. He scowled slightly, glaring up at the towering shelf in front of him.
"See if there's a Magical Theory book in the W section, dear," he mimicked his mother under his breath. "As if a first year book could be stashed in this old corner."
It was August 30th, a rather late time to be buying school books, since Hogwarts would be starting in two more days. Flourish and Blotts was in a state of near-chaos with stragglers who had decided, like the Malfoys, to buy their books last minute. Draco couldn't fathom why his mother had suddenly chosen today to go, out of all the times his father had offered to take them.
He had even almost begun to think that Narcissa had forgotten the essential trip to Diagon Alley, before she had woken him up in the dead of night (in reality, about 6 AM) ... the dead of night and dragged him and Lucius to go shopping. But they hadn't gone shopping, at least not immediately.
They'd gone on a trek around other purebloods' homes and Narcissa had conversed with the ladies of the Manors while Lucius and Draco sat silently on chairs, wondering despairingly why they were there and when it would all end. In fact, it seemed Narcissa had only remembered her original goal of shopping at the last moment.
Draco blankly scanned the shelf two more times, before letting out a frustrated huff of air. He had acquired a headache from being woken up so suddenly, and his thoughts were swimming. His family was rich, for Circe's sake, why couldn't they just order by owl and save themselves the trouble?
Frowning, and glancing back in the direction where he had left his mother to collect the other books, he figured he should have gotten used to his mother's odd little quirks and compulsions over the years.
He hadn't.
She unnerved Draco sometimes (read: all the time), one minute being a perfectly poised and respectable pureblooded witch with a son she called sweet and frankly embarrassing nicknames, and the next giving him sharp smiles that made him flinch and double-edged comments that dug into his skin and made the blood drain from his face.
Other times she acted without reason, choosing to do things in her own illogical way and not caring to hear what's wrong or right. It usually alarmed Draco, because more than once he had found her crying in her study, trying to break a hand mirror by violently slamming it repeatedly on her desk. Draco had long ago come to the guilty conclusion that Narcissa was rather dangerous when that mood struck her, in an unstable and frightening way.
Draco absently wandered away from the W section and started to search a different shelf, hoping that maybe a spare Magical Theory was tucked somewhere among other books.
He turned his head slightly to the left and widened his eyes as he saw a blueish-grey tome neatly perched horizontally on thick, red volumes. Written on the bind in silver lettering were the words 'A. WAFFLING, Magical Theory'.
Not believing his good fortune, and also vaguely wondering whether he was still sleepy enough to be imagining things, he smiled delightedly and reached up to take it. The second he grabbed it, though, another hand did the same. He blinked and turned incredulously to the other person next to him, who returned the expression with timid yet striking eyes the color of the Killing Curse.
He almost let go of the book in shock, but then he remembered who he was and gripped it tighter. Draco sent a stare that was both challenging and unimpressed to the boy in front of him. "Hey," he said, adopting the slow, bored drawl he used in public. "Mind taking your hands off my book?"
"Your book?" The black-haired boy's voice was slightly indignant, and rightly so since they had seemingly grabbed the book at the same time, but it was hard for Draco to take him seriously with his messy excuse for hair and ridiculous circular glasses.
Draco began to nod, but it made his headache worsen. He winced, his head spinning for a second or two, and then tried to pull the book off the shelf and out of the boy's hand to no avail. The other seemed to have a death grip. "Of course. It's mine. My one and only. It's practically my beloved."
He paused, and when his brain dazedly caught up to his words, he almost smacked himself. Time to quit talking, Draco.
"A book? Your beloved?"
"Ours is a forbidden love," Draco deadpanned before he could stop himself.
The boy stared at him incredulously. Draco flushed slightly and took that as a sign to take off. Hastily exclaiming an "Aha!", he slapped the boy's hand off Magical Theory and dashed out of the aisle, looking for his mother with the book held to his chest.
After a few moments of searching the store, he found her coldly staring down the shop clerk, who seemed to be shrinking inside himself. As he approached, he could her her speaking in her best I-am-better-than-you-so-listen-to-me voice.
"...hardly think it is appropriate that most of the books needed for my child's magical education are sold out, or... 'hidden somewhere in that pile there,'" she said the last part with a darkly mocking tone in her voice, clearly quoting something the clerk had said.
Draco noted with a thoughtful nod that she had switched from her doting mother mood to frightening pureblooded witch while he had been gone.
The rapidly reddening man started to respond, but she continued. "I expect, that by the time I come back to this store, that I will have a complete collection of the books listed in the Hogwarts first year requirements." Her gaze flickered to the book clutched in Draco's hands. "My son has already found one. Find the rest."
Draco stepped forward and tentatively held out the book to the clerk, who took it from him with a disgruntled expression. He made a point to look somewhere past the clerk's shoulder, because if he made eye contact the man would see sympathy, and he had been taught better than to sympathize with others openly if there was nothing to gain.
"Come, darling," his mother said, not bothering to look at him as she swirled around and headed towards the exit. "Let's get you your uniform."
He took one last look at the resentful clerk before trailing after his mother.
-;-
A little over half an hour later found Draco almost done in Madam Malkin's, staring anxiously at his reflection with troubled grey eyes. He was worrying over his encounter with the black-haired boy as a witch put finishing touches on his robes.
Maybe the boy wasn't a first year, he told himself. Maybe he didn't even go to Hogwarts. Maybe he'd keep quiet about Draco's idiocy at Flourish and Blotts. Maybe, maybe...
Maybe the boy did go to Hogwarts, and maybe the boy was a first year, and if he was then he would get to make fun of Draco because of his ridiculous statements about being in a romantic relationship with a book.
Draco suppressed the urge to moan into his hands.
That would be just his luck, wouldn't it?
Meanwhile, Harry Potter was walking by Hagrid's side, determinedly trying not to get trampled on by the hustle of wizards and witches. He was still quite annoyed at the unnamed blonde boy for snatching the book from him like that, because it meant he had had to search the store for another half hour before he found a copy again.
Harry and Hagrid had rushed around the store and looked for the other books in Harry's list, very nearly losing the last copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble to an indignant little woman who wanted it for some 'sentimental rereading'. Hagrid had called her an 'old Ravenclaw,' whatever that meant. Harry supposed it was probably wizard slang that meant 'bookworm', or something along those lines.
Not for the first time, Harry wished his uncle hadn't been so sneaky in destroying his Hogwarts letters, or at least messed up in escaping Hagrid sooner. The time spent on the stormy island had gotten Harry sick, and it had been days after that Hagrid found them.
He felt as though he should have been bedridden, and had thought he was hallucinating by the time he first saw the half-giant, waving that pink umbrella of his around in the air. It took him another few days to accept that no, he wasn't losing his mind, and yes, by all accounts, magic was definitely real and he was a wizard.
Imagine— Harry Potter, a wizard!
Harry had tried very hard not to dwell on the fact that he was a famous one. After being ignored and mistreated for the past eleven years, he just couldn't wrap his head around it.
He now only wished he had come to terms with the truth about the wizarding world sooner, because it seemed August 30th was a day of running around and hoping the materials and books you needed weren't sold out yet.
Harry was shaken out of his thoughts as he and Hagrid stopped in front of a store whose sign declared it to be Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding at the store. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off to get snacks fer us both? 'm feeling a bit hungry after searching for yer books an' all." He did look pleading, so Harry nodded reluctantly. He entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.
Madam Malkin was a squat, kind-looking witch dressed all in mauve, and she was gathering sewing materials from a high shelf when Harry came in. She gave him a glance and smiled.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here— another young man just finishing being fitted up right now, in fact."
Harry sent her a hesitant smile and made his way in the direction that she'd gestured towards.
As he reached the back of the shop, he saw a boy with unmistakable platinum-blond hair who was stepping off a footstool and nodding curtly as a witch informed him that his purchases would be ready soon. He turned clear grey eyes to Harry's direction. Draco jerked back and stilled, recognizing the boy with absurdly messy black hair.
Harry couldn't help but crack an uncertain smile at the boy's direction, because the boy looked so shocked. Perhaps he was feeling so guilty he couldn't bear seeing Harry again. The thought made Harry's smile more solid. "Hello," he said.
The blond boy blinked and raised his chin slightly. "Ah... Hello."
Harry stared. A couple awkward seconds passed as both tried to find what to say.
"Er..." Harry started.
"Are—" Draco coughed, "Are you going to Hogwarts, too? First year?" The boy looked rather sickly as he asked the question, and even more so when Harry nodded tentatively.
"I am."
Draco looked horrified, before shaking his head. It was best to not give the green-eyed boy any reason to hate him, then, so he decided to try to not insult him.
"Know what house you'll be in yet?" He imagined the boy as a Hufflepuff, and couldn't help but scoff. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin. All my family has been— imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
Although if the boy were to be a Hufflepuff, Draco wouldn't have to worry about blackmail and teasing. "But you wouldn't have to leave," Draco amended, "because Hufflepuff is where— where the nice ones are. You know, the non-blackmailing ones."
He promptly clacked his teeth shut and promised to clean his mouth with soap later. Oh, if Pansy'd heard him, she would have laughed. He sent a paranoid glance around the shop but didn't spot her dark-haired head anywhere.
"Mmm," Harry said uncomfortably, honestly lost in what the other boy was talking about.
The witch who had been pinning Draco's robes came back and handed him a bag filled with magically shrunk school robes. "My father's up the street looking at wands and my mother's just gone next door; you could say she's buying the rest of my books somewhat," the boy offered, trying to keep up a conversation.
Harry's eyes lit up. Speaking of books... "How's your forbidden love with the book going?" Harry couldn't help but ask, grinning.
The boy's pale face tinged with a delicate pink. "Y-You.. It's.." He looked at Harry and then behind him. He suddenly gasped in an over exaggerated manner and pointed behind Harry, slightly to the left. "Oh wow, it's Harry Potter!" he exclaimed in awe.
Harry widened his eyes in disbelief and looked over his left shoulder. "What are you talking—"
Draco dashed past Harry's right side and was out of the door before the latter could realize what had happened.
REFERENCES (of a non-HP nature)
"Ours is a forbidden love," Draco deadpanned before he could stop himself.
- is paraphrased and taken from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, said by Willow, episode Lie to Me.