Shelli felt overwhelmed amidst the trains of lengthy robes and the tape measure that measured her on its own as the squat woman in mauve- Shelli guessed she was the Madam Malkin from the sign outside- stood nearby. She politely attempted at small talk, but between the tape measure and Larry's sudden and unexplained departure, Shelli honestly was not in the mood.

'At least it's quiet in here,' Shelli thought to herself. Everything here was so new, even the building didn't seem to whisper. Or it at least whispered less than the other buildings in this strange cove of magical denizens.

Unfortunately, the brief moment of stillness was interrupted by the ringing of the shop bell and the entrance of a boisterous young boy about her own age.

"...Ah, signora! I must say, mauve is ever your color. Takes a decade off you, I swear it does. You don't look a day over twenty something. Tell me, darling, could you help me be so stylish?"

Madam Malkin chuckled. "Ever a charmer, Mr. Zabini. But we both know I'm old enough to be your grandmother. I almost was, if I recall correctly. Will it be the usual styles? Will you be trying our new fall line?"

"Unfortunately, madame, I must decline at this time. Hogwarts has no taste." The melodrama was thick in his voice as he spoke in mock despair. "Alas, Black. But if there's anyone I trust to add some spice to the blandness that is required by the school uniform, it has to be you, madam. Best in the business, I always say."

Shelli rolled her eyes. 'Someone's schmoozy...'

Madam Malkin placed him next to Shelli, when another bell signaled another customer. "I'll be right with you, dears. Why don't you get to know each other in the meantime?"

Blaise smiled at Shelli. His features were vaguely mediterranean and his olive colored eyes sparkled with humour.

"First time?" He asked.

Shelli stared straight ahead. "Perhaps. Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?"

Blaise chuckled. "Do you? Of course, you do. But I assure you, it's just the Zabini way. My name's Blaise, by the way. Blaise Amadeus Zabini. You seem like the right sort of person I'd associate with, fashion sense could definitely use some updates, but I can work with that, kid. So what's your name? What's your story?"

Shelli scoffed at how smooth Blaise thought he was. She was miffed at being looked down on, even it was for show. "First of all, Why would you call me kid? You're my age. Secondly, excuse you. If anyone dresses oddly it's you wizards, with all your top hats and cloaks. And lastly, you lack any kind of subtlety."

Blaise grinned at her candor, obviously pleased that he could speak directly for once. "Oh, we're going to get along famously."

Shelli tuned him out as he continued to monologue at her about his fashion sense and she was relieved when Larry came back with a hastily wrapped parcel.

Shelliana felt her migraine slowly re-embed itself into her brain as Larry led her to the local bookshop. But they were stopped by a dour looking well dressed man. His round pale face was worn and weary, but stern.

"Lawrence. It's quite the surprise to see you here."

Larry gave a slight bow to the distinguished elder. "Just shopping for my boss's daughter. Shelliana, this is Merlinius Fauste, a shining example of law and order in the wizarding world."

A stoic smile pulled itself slightly at the corner of his mouth as he regarded Shelli with a slight nod. "He flatters me. I'm just a humble lawyer. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take my leave. Annwn and Galahad are waiting for me. Larry, Shelliana."

Larry was obviously giddy as he went to follow, but skidded to a stop. He handed Shelli the list of textbooks she'd need as well as the parcel.

"Don't worry about A History of Magic, I'll explain later. But I think it'll if help if you look for the rest. I have to catch up with my old mentor on a legal matter. You're a smart lass. I have faith you'll be fine. And I'll be right back. I promise."

With nothing else to do, Shelli was left to enter the bookstore on her own. As her hand brushed up against the rough oaken shelves, she was surprised by the sheer politeness of the whispers that came off of the books. If it wasn't for the contemptuous wave of sycophants that Shelli quickly learned were mingling in anticipation for some celebrity book signing, she would not have minded spending time here. Shelli was trying to find her books as quickly as possible when she heard the sarcastic and arrogant voice of another boy her own age.

"You look lost. Me and my friend are waiting out the crowd in another nook and cranny nearby. You can still see what's going on but less likely to deal with these dimwits jostling you. Come on!"

He had gestured to a pale boy with white slicked back hair, in a more abandoned corner of the store. Shelli froze, red tinged her ears as she was put on the spot. Irritation and confusion meshed at the stranger, but she wasn't sure if wizards followed the same hospitality rules as the fae folk from the fairy tales of her youth. So, unwilling to be rude and mildly curious, she followed the loud mouth redhead.

"Name's Galahad Percival Fauste," the redhead proudly stated, puffing his chest out and casually gesturing to the friend. "This stiff oaf is Draco Malfoy."

The white haired boy was indeed stiff, giving only a single nod of acknowledgement in reply. It was obvious to her that the haughtiness he displayed was a way to hide the awkwardness of the conversation. She almost felt sorry for him. But the fine clothes and pinched features gave me her the impression of old money.

"And who might you be?" the Fauste boy continued. She didn't like his arrogant lisp that coloured his churlish brogue. "I haven't seen you around Diagon Alley before, so I assume you've never been here before. Also, What's your blood status?"

Shelli narrowed her eyes. Caught off guard, she bristled at what she was certain was blatant racism. She did her best to gather words to tell him off, but she found she lacked the courage when she was reminded of fairy folk rules. She made a mental to note to ask Larry.

"A bold assumption if you don't know me," She said, calculating her words very carefully. "But yes. My name is Shelliana Masten. I have not been here before and I don't know what a blood status is, but it sounds suspiciously racist."

She watched the Malfoy boy wince a touch at that and his voice was suprisingly melodic. Her scowl deepened as she realized that if he was fae, she had given her real name and silently cursed herself.

"Blood status," Draco said, with a slight glare at Galahad. "Is your magical status in the world. I apologize with how rude my friend is. But what he meant to ask is: Are you by chance lost and disoriented because you're either a half-blood or a muggleborn?"

To Shelli, it still sounded really racist. Half-blood was too close to Half-breed for her liking and she jut her chin up in proud dismissal.

"And what business is it of yours?" It was difficult to hide the faintest whisper of her native welsh accent as she seethed uncomfortably.

Galahad leaned against the bookshelf, trying desperately to look cool. But when the eleven year old ran a hand through his hair, the faint flecks of dandruff fell on his leather jacket diminishing any cool factor he thought he had.

"It's a friendly wager we have," he said, attempting to be smooth, but Shelli couldn't shake the dorkiness of his bad Fonzi impression and stifled a laugh in her hand, disguising it as a cough. "I think you're half-blood, by the way you hold you hold yourself. I mean you're fairly independent but it doesn't look like you've been around magic very long. Draco thinks you're muggleborn based on...?"

Draco frowned in discomfort and eyed Shelli. "Your clothes and how...new...you seem. Again, I apologize for my friend. He's not normally this rude or uncouth, but rest assured he is most definitely this bold."

Galahad cocked his head in amusement, and Shelli felt ashamed at the surge of violence that coursed through her.

"Yes, but nevertheless I am quite curious and afterwards, I promise I'll drop the subject." Shelli had to take a deep breath as Galahad looked her up and down with an eyebrow raised. "Hell, you can even pick the subject. I'm sure you have loads of questions we can answer."

Shelli had to take a moment to gather herself. First, this git assumed she was lesser based on her race and now he seemed to imply she wasn't intelligent.

"My... Acquaintance Larry," she said apprehensively, pausing to maintain her composure and to properly define exactly what Larry was to her. "Described some of this. I suppose I was raised non-magically, but I never knew my mother so I honestly don't know..."

Shelli was unsure why she was saying this. Did she feel just sorry for Draco? But all of that dissolved when Galahad looked coyly at Draco.

"Hear that?"

Draco cocked his head, the faintest hint of a smirk touching his lips as he wryly commented in reply.

"It means nothing."

The irritation returned when she remembered she was merely a part of a wager. She practically bristled when Galahad chuckled.

"We'll see. Go on Shelliana. Ugh, that is a mouthful. Can I just call you Shelli?"

Before Shelliana could reply, Galahad steamrolled her.

"Anyway, Shelli is there anything you want to know?"

She shut down after that, half-heartedly asking questions and looking for an opening to escape as she did so. She got the impression that Galahad enjoyed torturing her until he said something that made her turn as red as her hair. Luckily, he had shame enough to blush himself. He thought it was cute, but she was mildly irked by the words themselves, even if it was obvious now he had at least tried flirt.

"You're adorably uncultured magically. I will be your guide to the world of magic from the time we arrive in the Hogwarts Express until time we part ways at the end of our schooling. This I so swear."

Shelli had had enough and opened her mouth to tell him off, rude or not, but luckily she was saved by someone she actually kind of liked. It was the dandy boy from the dress shop.

"Oh no, if a Fauste does that, th n you're hopelessly doomed. They've got the worst fashion sense."

Blaise Zabini had quietly slipped into their hidey hole amongst the other books without anybody noticing, although Shelli had to note it would be easy to do with Galahad's loud mouth. He was still dressed exquisitely, silver and black clothes very form fitting and Galahad smiled, but the airs he had put on seemed to deflate a little, obviously miffed at being upstaged. Shelli found satisfaction in that.

"This is..." Galahad began. But when he was cut off, Shelli stifled another chuckle into her palm.

"We've met. But I suppose I should properly introduce myself. Zabini. Blaise Zabini. Best of fashion at Hogwarts since Andre Egwu. I apologize but I need to borrow Draco for a moment. Slytherin house stuff. Toodles!"

As Draco followed Blaise with a sigh, Shelli wished she could be whisked away instead of being left in awkward silence with this arsehole ginger.