first impressions (mean the most)

(The Schuyler Sisters: "Your perfume smells like your daddy's got money.")

The party was pretty boring, in Draco's opinion. His parents had invited a lot of people, but they were all so stuffy. There were hardly any boys around his age, though there were plenty of girls, it seemed.

One girl with bright red hair caught his attention early in the evening. She had a pretty purple dress on. Violet, he thought it was. It reminded him of the fancy dresses his mother wore, with decorative accents like glitter and a big bow in the back. He wondered if he could tell her that he liked it without her thinking that he liked her, too. He definitely didn't want that.

He watched her play with Daphne Greengrass for a while before finally summoning the courage to speak to her. He walked up beside her and poked her shoulder.

"Excuse me," he said stiffly, feeling awkward in the full suit his parents had made him wear, "I just wanted to tell you that I like your dress. It's a nice color."

She gazed at him with the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen. They were so full of emotion, and so calming to look into.

"Thank you," she said at last. Her voice was bubbly and warm, and Draco decided he liked it much better than any other girls' voices.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Ginny," she said brightly. "Ginny Weasley."

Draco almost recoiled in shock. This girl was a Weasley! His father was always talking about that family, and he never had anything nice to say about them. Still, this girl didn't seem that bad...

A moment later, Draco remembered his manners.

"It's nice to meet you, Ginny. Do you know who I am?" He hoped she did, they were in his house after all.

She sniffed. "Of course I do. You're Draco Malfoy."

Draco was very pleased to find that she did in fact know who he was, and puffed out his chest a little.

"That's right," he drawled. "This is my house you're standing in. It's called Malfoy Manor. So what do you think of the party? The adults aren't much fun, but don't the decorations look great?"

Ginny tilted her head. She looked around at the sparkly silver streamers, the huge, transparent ice sculptures, and the shiny gold balloons, then said the most awful thing Draco could have imagined:

"I suppose they're alright."

Alright? Alright? Draco thought he might collapse on the spot. So much time and energy and money had gone into the decorations, and all she had to say was that they were alright? She might as well have said they were ugly.

Draco decided then and there that he did not like Ginny Weasley very much. Even if she hadn't been a Weasley, he wouldn't have liked her.

"I'll have you know that Mother and Father spent a very large amount of money on this party," he sniffed.

"Good for them," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Draco huffed. Why wasn't she impressed?

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to understand, Weasley," he said, in the best imitation of his father's sneering tone he could muster at eight years of age. "From what my father's said about you, your family is so poor that you all have to sleep in the same bed!"

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "That's not true!"

"I'll bet it is," Draco said meanly. "You just don't want to admit it."

She stomped her foot. "You take that back, you-you jerk!"

"I won't take back something that's true." And Draco marched off with his nose in the air.

...

Some time later, it had grown dark outside, and the grownups seemed to be getting tired. Draco was tired too. Dobby usually tucked him in at half past eight, and it was now half past nine according to the large grandfather clock in the hallway.

He heard a sniffle somewhere nearby and went off to investigate. He found Ginny sitting on the stairs bawling her eyes out, and immediately felt very uncomfortable. Crying girls were not something he had a lot of experience with, and he didn't like how Ginny's tiny body shook with the force of her tears. It freaked him out.

"Weas-Ginny?" he said cautiously.

She looked up at him and glared before lowering her head into her hands again. Draco looked around. Where were her family members, anyway? Weren't there supposed to be like, fifty of them? Or was that why no one noticed she was gone, because there were so many others to keep track of? He suddenly felt sorry for the little girl in front of him.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he said, taking a seat beside her. "It wasn't very nice."

"Buzz off, Malfoy," came her muffled reply.

"Fine, be that way." Draco folded his arms. "But I'm not going anywhere."

Ginny raised her head and sniffed.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, puzzled.

"Your perfume smells like your daddy's got money," Ginny scoffed.

"First of all, men don't wear perfume, we wear cologne," Draco said haughtily. "And second of all, that's a good thing, you nitwit."

"Not when the smell is annoying and won't leave you alone!" she shot back. "Kind of like you, I guess."

She looked rather proud of that insult, and Draco was secretly impressed. He had underestimated her; she wasn't nearly as weak and fragile as he had thought.

"It's not that bad," Draco insisted.

She laughed, and Draco thought she had the best laugh of all the girls he knew. "It is too."

"Draco!" His mother's sharp voice startled him. He quickly stood and waited for her instructions. "There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you. Your father would like you to meet some important guests."

Draco hated meeting his father's friends. They always praised him and said he looked just like his father, and it made Draco feel ill. He tried to think of some way to get out of it, but his mother had turned her attention to Ginny before he could make his excuse.

"You, Weasley," she said, looking down her nose at the girl, "where are those parents of yours?"

Ginny shrank away from the towering woman and shrugged miserably.

"Well, I suggest you go and find them," she said icily. Ginny leapt up at once, and with one last, frightened look at Draco, she disappeared back into the ballroom. Draco turned to his mother.

"That wasn't very nice, Mother."

"I wouldn't have held back if she wasn't just a little girl. What were you thinking, sitting here with her?" his mother snapped, and Draco reeled back.

"I-"

"She's a blood traitor, Draco! The worst kind of Pureblood there is!"

"She was upset!" Draco shouted. "I was just trying to be a gentleman, like you and Father want me to be!"

His mother took several deep breaths. Draco knew that this was her technique for calming herself down so that she wouldn't make a scene.

"Draco," she said tightly, "I understand what you were trying to do, but you cannot show kindness to people like her."

"But she seemed nice!" Draco protested. He didn't often argue with his mother, but he didn't understand what was so bad about Ginny.

His mother's laugh was chilling. "Of course she seemed nice, but her family would have us associate with Mudbloods." She paused, and then added, "I'm disappointed in you, Draco. Your father and I didn't raise you to think her kind are nice."

Draco hung his head. "No, Mother."

"She's not like us," his mother whispered, gently stroking his cheek. Draco nodded obediently.

"I understand."

His mother guided him back into the ballroom, where he was forced to listen to his father's friends chatter on and on for what felt like an eternity. He didn't see Ginny or anyone who looked remotely like her, so he figured she and her family must have left. Though he didn't want to admit it, he was disappointed that she had left without saying goodbye.

Finally, at half past ten, he was given permission to go to bed. Dobby dressed him in his pajamas in record time, and he slipped under the covers happily. He thought sleep would come easily, but he stayed awake thinking about Ginny for ages. She had seemed so carefree and kind when he had watched her play with Daphne. Surely she couldn't be as bad as his mother had made her sound...but he couldn't go against his parents' teachings. If she came to any more parties, he would just have to ignore her. It would be better for both of them that way.

Ginny never did come to any more of his parents' parties, and in no time at all, he had all but forgotten about the little redheaded girl with the pretty dress who cried on his stairs. She was hardly more than a passing thought for another four years, in fact, until he and his father came face-to-face with her and her family in Flourish and Blotts.

Wordcount: 1,504

A/N: I swear I keep meaning to write drabbles but somehow they keep getting away from me! And I'm not sure how I did writing this from the viewpoint of a kid. I tried to make it sound like a kid was describing some of the things. Also, this feels like the beginning of a longer story...that I don't really feel like writing right now. :p