(Alternate Universe, pre-OotP)
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Diagon Ally, fall 1986
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"Father?" The little blond boy tugged on his father's cloak. "Father!" The bottom of the hard silver cane impacted with the six-year-old's bum and he jumped and shrieked in surprise.
He sniffled as the tall blond man hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "Do not embarrass me, Draco."
"Yes, Father," Draco whimpered, his hands rubbing the spot on his rear that stung.
He had tried to wait, honestly. But the girl looking at him while eating her ice cream might go at any minute and Draco wanted to talk to her.
A minute later, he again grasped the cloak pocket. "Father," he whispered instead.
The elegant man paused in his business dealings at the mouth of Knockturn Ally to glare at his son. He raised a smooth eyebrow and Draco whispered, "May I have an ice cream?"
"Insistent tot, ain't 'ee?" the crippled warlock sneered, leering at Draco. The boy pulled up the hood of his cloak to hide his face.
Lucius grew weary. "Silence, Draco," he snapped. "No." Then promptly turned back the conversation to his topic.
The tyke's grey eyes began to fill with tears as he gazed longingly at the girl. An older woman, presumably her mother joined her at the small, round table with a large sundae. The little brown-haired, brown-skinned girl turned away from him to talk to her companion.
Draco frowned.
His father wasn't looking. The leering wizard had forgotten he stood not two feet away. The blond-headed tot edged away from his bickering elders, toward the bright ice cream parlour in the centre of Diagon Ally.
The closer he stepped toward the girl, the more clearly punishment came to Draco's mind. Would it be whipping? No food?
But all thoughts flew out of his head as he sat at the empty table next to his destination.
"Celeste, darling," the woman was saying, "I'm so proud of you! First sign of magic and you helped repair that broken pot of Grandmamma's! I thought it could never be fixed. I am so pleased."
"Celeste." Draco whispered the name once more. A pretty name.
He glanced at the girl from under his hood. Her eyes were a pale blue -- a strange sight on such dark skin.
"Mummy, I don't know what happened..." she said quietly. ("The voice of an angel," Draco thought.)
"That's okay, darling," the woman replied quickly. "You will go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when you turn eleven where you will learn all about magic!"
Celeste looked over her mother's shoulder. Draco started and looked away, realizing she had seen him staring.
When he glanced over his shoulder again, she was smiling softly, directly at him. He pushed back his hood a bit and smiled in return.
Draco stopped the instant her smile disappeared. Had he something on his face? When his hand reached up to swipe at his mouth, a heavy weight on his shoulder made him jump violently and jerk around.
A stern glare met his gaze and he gulped at the sight of his angry father. "Come, Draco," Lucius commanded silkily, noticing the two females at the next table were watching. "We are leaving."
Draco slid off the chair, the firm hand remaining on his shoulder, and marched beside his father all the way to the Portkey landing.
As he was forced to take hold of the pot handle, Draco saw a brief glimpse of Celeste as she disappeared into the ebbing crowd, and he wondered if their paths would ever cross again.
When he landed on the entryway floor of Malfoy Manor (he was still learning how to travel by Portkey), his father grabbed his arm and marched him upstairs. The six-year-old tripped on the stairs so often, Lucius fairly carried him by his left arm up to the second floor.
When they reached Draco's playroom, attracting the attention of Narcissa on the way, Lucius released his son, who again lost his balance and fell over.
"Stand up." The order was almost shouted.
"Lucius?" Narcissa appeared at the doorway. "What's--?"
"Not now," her husband barked, pushing her out of the room and shutting the heavy bolt. "Stand up, Draco!" he shouted. His son's legs shook as they supported his skinny frame.
"Why did you run away?"
Draco did not answer quick, and the sharp silver cane struck the side of his leg.
"Answer!"
Tears welled in his eyes.
"Malfoys do. not. cry. Crying is for Mudbloods who will never be like us. Are you a Mudblood? Are you going to cry?" Lucius taunted. Draco's face hardened and he answered no. His eyes took longer to dry than his pride.
"Why did you go to the shop when I told you no?"
"Be-because, a girl," Draco whispered.
"Hmm? What was that?"
"A girl was staring at me," he said louder.
Lucius frowned. "Malfoys do not become distracted. You will learn right now that you will not be distracted by things that are not pure. How do you know she was not a Mudblood, Draco? How?"
The boy paused. "I-I didn't think--"
"Of course you didn't." Lucius' condescending tone made his son even more resolved.
"And I was going over to tell her 'stop'," he lied. The lie was worth the effort as he made his father smile for a moment.
"I knew there must be some semblance of my son somewhere in you," the blond man said, tapping the serpent's head on the cane.
"For running away," he continued, "six strokes. But for a plausible cause, only four will be bestowed." Draco sighed and turned his back on his father.
The blows were quick and painful, but as his father swept out of the room without a hug or kiss, Draco went over to play with his toy wand, and all was forgotten.
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