Hi all! This chapter has been updated as of 5/23/12, since my friend and I got a new idea regarding the story and had to change some bits to accommodate for that.
The floo network is dreadfully inefficient, Draco thinks. It is so easy to misspeak and lose valuable time trying to correct errors. Much less nauseating than side-along apparition, though. After a brief blur of fireplaces, he has been coughed into Gringotts, and has had only a moment to dust himself off before finding himself face-to-face with a striking girl who can't be much older than he is.
The girl has long, black hair which frames a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, fair skin, and, most strikingly...
Her eyes. They are a rather disturbing shade of blue shot with golden hazel, and slanted so that she looks like a cat. A fringe of thick, dark eyelashes, a knowing smirk, and a lithe, graceful figure complete the effect. She is gorgeous in a radiant, youthful way.
Draco hates her immediately; hates that he's drawn to her. He turns away, thinking of all he has to accomplish...
He checks his mental list: Gringotts, Ollivander's, Madame Malkins, Flourish and Blotts, the Apothecary, Eeylops Owl Emporium. Reorders it: Gringotts, Madame Malkins, Flourish and Blotts, Apothecary, Eeylops, and then Ollivander's. He is already in Gringotts, so it is a simple matter to access the Malfoy vault, something he's done numerous times before, and soon he steps out into the chaos and filth of Diagon Alley.
Some time later, after making some other purchases, he heads towards Madame Malkin's. When he gets to the door step, he notices the girl he encountered in Gringotts. For a brief moment, he contemplates going to Flourish and Blotts first, but quickly scolds himself. Malfoys do not back down from a store simply because someone - albeit a strange someone - is also in the store. With that thought in mind, he stomps through the door, his face showing the slightest bit of frustration. Of course, Madame Malkin immediately turns towards him the moment she sees him, leaving the measurements of the girl to an assistant.
"Mister Malfoy," she says professionally, "How may I help you today?"
"I need my new robes. For Hogwarts," he explains, looking around the room with an air of disapproval, almost as if her work is not satisfactory.
"Ah, of course. Right this way," she says, leading him right next to the young girl.
Biting his lip, he takes his place. If he leans just a centimeter or two to his left, he will be touching her. As if on cue, she looks at him. Not just a fleeting glance from the corner of her eye, hoping to be undetected - she turns those striking eyes towards him, meeting his gaze straight on. No girl anywhere near his age has ever had the courage to meet his eyes like that. Even more shocking, she holds it. Taken aback, he shoots his eyes around the room only to look back in her direction to find her still looking at him, a knowing smirk teasing the corner of her mouth.
Why, that insolent little minx. Acting as if she is better than him, knows more than him. Him, the heir of the house of Malfoy, and her just a bit of dirt on the sole of his shoe. He glares at her, refusing to back down.
"Sir? I need to measure the length of your arm, sir, if you could just hold it out for a moment," Madame Malkin stammers, as if she has been trying to get his attention for a while now. Draco obligingly holds it out without breaking the gaze of the girl. Finally, she looks away, with the tiniest of shrugs.
There we go. Now he can properly introduce himself with the right degree of superiority. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he drawls. "Hogwarts?"
"Akantha Rosier," she tells him after the most annoying of pauses. Oh my god, he thinks, all coherent thoughts going out the window. Her voice. It has to be the most beautiful sound in the world, clear as a bell, flowing like music in just those two words. She continues as if she hasn't noticed his reaction, "I believe we're distant cousins of a sort."
"Uh, ah, yes, I believe we are. Why haven't I met you before, then?" The Rosiers are purebloods, blood purists with generations of Slytherins. He must have met her before, but he would remember her if he had, wouldn't he?
"I've been with relatives in France and Italy for most of my life," she smiles, "I just came to Britain in the last year. I don't believe most of the extended family knows I exist," Akantha finishes thoughtfully.
"How interesting," he says politely, but genuinely meaning it, "Why were you in France and Italy for so long?"
"My mother sent me there as soon as I was born, because of the war. Then my family was split up in the war, and by then, my parents didn't want me to lose my connections with other wizarding families before necessary. I almost ended up going to Beauxbatons, but they brought me here instead."
"So you don't know many people in magical Britain?" Draco asks for confirmation. It seems as though there is an opportunity here, but he can't quite put his finger on it.
Akantha nods, "I know a few, but not many wizards and witches my own age. I've largely been spending time along with books, and the few people I have met I can't say I particularly like," she says, wrinkling her nose.
"I understand completely," he says smoothly.
Her robes are measured. Draco is almost disappointed that this means she will be leaving. She fascinates him, despite that they have only made small talk.
"How lovely. Perhaps you could introduce me to your friends sometime?" she queries politely.
He nods in response, surprised that someone so charismatic as Akantha appears to be asking for help meeting people. "Yes, I'd be happy to. Until then," he says with another short polite nod.
Madame Malkin finishes his robes moments later, but he is in a trance as he pays for them and leaves. Akantha's face looks at him from the back of his eyelids whenever he blinks, and her words keep repeating themselves over and over in his head...
Ugh! Why can't he just get that stupid girl out of his head already? Yes, she appears to actually have a brain, and if she is a Rosier, she has good bloodlines. But she is just a girl of no importance. He is a Malfoy. He has much better things to do than obsess over a girl.
The rest of shopping goes by in a dim haze, except for wand shopping. Draco actually remembers most of that, but it is by far the most exciting part of shopping. Ollivander is the strangest creature; Draco can't see how anyone could spend all of their time on something as boring as wands. Sure, they are important, but exiting? Definitely not.
He floos back to the Manor, eager to get home and spend some time with his thoughts.