Draco was very rapidly becoming quite annoyed with this kid. Here he was, eleven years old and already one of the most famous wizards of his time, not only that but he didn't do a damn thing to earn that title mind you, and he was complaining. Complaining.

"I just wish people wouldn't stare so much I guess." Harry sighed "This is already confusing enough as it is."

"Confusing?" Draco questioned.

"Well yeah" Harry started "Here I am just living this 'normal' life I guess, and then this giant beardy guy, Hagrid, shows up on my doorstep saying stuff about wizards and witches and magic and Voldemort-"

Draco jerked at the cavalier use of The Dark Lords name. Where was this kid from?

"It's just very…abrupt, I guess. And overwhelming. And itchy." He said, scratching at the seams of his robe.

"Wait a minute" Draco started, absolutely floored "you mean to tell me you had no idea you were a wizard?"

"Not until a few days ago, no." Harry shrugged.

"That doesn't make any sense, I mean-" Draco stopped, looking over at the boy. He narrowed his eyes "Were you raised by…muggles?"

"Muggl-? Oh- yeah. I guess so."

Draco was stunned. Harry Potter, the Harry Potter, was raised by muggles. How can that be?

"Oh god." Draco said, repulsed "Was it just horrible?"

"…Well, kind of. Wait, what do you mean? Is there something wrong with muggles?"

Draco was at a loss of words.

"Well…yeah! Being raised by muggles is like in comparison being raised by a pack of barbaric, stupid, wild dogs!"

"What! No! I…I mean, not always!" He shouted.

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes "Have you ever actually met a muggle?"

"Have you?" Harry questioned, leaning back.

Draco too leaned back, regarding the boy, absolutely incredulous. To be perfectly honest he never really had met a muggle. But he didn't need to. And he most certainly never wanted to. He never actually put much mind in to muggles and the filthy offspring of them and those from the wizarding world, appropriately labeled 'halfbloods'. Those were worse in his opinion. Miscreations of nature. Something that should not ever have existed.

Madame Malkin chose that moment to walk back in.

"Alright love, you're all done for today. I'll just package these up and leave them all ready up front for when your mother returns." She said with a smile.

That was perfectly fine with Draco, he had undeniably heard enough from this scraggly, unwashed boy. He hastily jumped off the stool and exited the shop, muttering under his breath just loud enough for Harry to hear "Ridiculous, uncultured degenerate".

Hermione stood at the entrance of Flourish & Blotts. She of course had saved the best for last: the bookstore. It was everything she thought it would be and more. The bookshelves went all the way to the ceiling, absolutely overflowing with books. It was amazing.

She composed herself and then looked down at her list of needed books.

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

She glanced around the room again, towers and towers of books strewn across the expansion of the store, balancing on shelves and desks and one another.

"Oh I do hope these are alphabetized." She thought, starting off for the first book shelf.

"-Absolutely ridiculous" Draco muttered under his breath as he entered the book shop.

As much as he loved sweets this was honestly his favorite shop on Diagon Alley. He'd always had a great love of reading ever since he was a small boy. Most educational activities were pushed upon him by his Father, rather forcefully: Piano, French, Latin. But books were an entirely different story.

He could never get enough of them.

It didn't really matter what they were about. It was an escape, he supposed.

Father yelling at his mother?

Go upstairs, hide in his closet and read.

Father having a meeting with his 'friends', talking about muggles and spells and the prophecy and whatnot?

Go read a book.

Though, those conversations never really bothered Draco very much. He was actually very keen on eavesdropping, he learned quite a lot that way. Mostly about spells and potions, sometimes about the Dark Lord, who honestly sounding very unpleasant. But it wasn't until they brought some one home, usually a younger woman that Draco's stomach would turn to knots and he would find himself fleeing up the stairs to his room. They did always take them down to the dungeon, below the house, so the noises wouldn't echo and reach unintended ears.

But the screams always carried.

"Well" he thought as he looked at the packed store "This is going to take a while"

He climbed the stairs and up to the second floor, much less crowded and paused. His eyes scanned the room, looking for a good place to start when his eyes caught on a small girl sitting in the corner with a book placed neatly in her lap.

She was a small little thing. She had a petite little nose and a small dusting of light freckles across her cheeks. What she lacked in sheer body mass was more than made up for with her hair. It was a bit fuzzy to put it lightly. She had a giant mass of curls surrounding her little face. He was standing right at the top of the stairs, a mere three yards away and she had yet to notice him, she was so involved in her book.

Draco tilted his head to the side, watching her and gave a small smile.

"Draco!" He heard a deep voice suddenly call from down stairs.

Father.

He quickly spun around and made his way downstairs.